Dark Reflection
by M.T. Hart
Summary: Looking back through the evil, through the good, through the pain, one reflects on the themes of life. A collection of oneshots. Theme suggestions accepted.
1. Introduction

**Title:** Sometimes They Aren't Necessary

**Theme: **#1 Introduction

**Rating: **PG-13** mild cursing**

**Warnings:**

**Pairing(s): **Celeste & Eric

**Summary:**Sometimes first impressions can haunt us for all our lives.

**Standard disclaimer:** I do not own any characters. They are all products of Christine Feehan's imagination.

* * *

She was there again.

Beneath the shade of the trees overlooking the valley below. The cliff was high, jutting, and far too dangerous for a woman to linger about. Yet, there she was sitting in a gown of darken green just watching the way the moon drifted over the sky. Her hair would catch in the wind sometimes, and if he was in just the right place he could catch the faintest hint of bread and clay. She never fully turned her head in his direction when he was training below her, nor did she ever meet his eyes in passing, but he always turned to watch her.

"You keep watching her like that and you might lose your head," Mikhail laughed, and swung his sword almost taking off a few strands of his hair. "Better figure out your intentions and soon Eric or else."

Eric sidestepped another blow and cross his sword with Mikhail's, throwing a snort in the young prince's face. "Don't you have anything nice to say?"

"Not in the faintest," Mikhail lowered his sword and stole look up onto the cliff. "In all the time she spends here you would think she would bother to speak to you."

Eric took a seat onto a log, and laid his sword lazily over his heel. "What makes you so sure she's here for me?"

"What makes you so sure that she's not?" Mikhail countered, his eyes narrowed. The two of them were still considered young by their society's standards, but even Mikhail was beginning to feel the drain of the growing darkness. Each day they seemed to lose one more of their brethren to the darkness. "You are too quick to dismiss such things. Go and talk to her."

"You make it sound like she is my lifemate." Eric snorted at the foolishness. Sure he was gaining years and each day brought him a step closer to darkness, but he felt fine and strong. He did not feel the pressing evil that so many of the others felt. Perhaps he was just special like that.

"Isn't she?" Mikhail asked innocently one eyebrow raised. "I can't imagine why else she would sit up there day after day."

Now it was Eric's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Perhaps she just likes watching me kick your ass."

"Be serious."

Eric twirled his sword and ran at him. "I am."

And that ended that conversation. By the time they lowered their swords, the woman was already gone.

But the next night she was there.

And the next.

And the next.

Mikhail shook his head, and threw a knowing look at Eric every time, but didn't bother to say anything more. He didn't have to. Eric kept looking at her, his eyes wondering just what it was that kept bringing her back. Most of their women couldn't stay long during fights without feeling some fleeting catch of another warrior's pain. But when Eric would slash through Mikhail, he would look up and find her sitting ever calm over them.

The weather turned to snow and yet Eric would insist on dragging Mikhail from his room to train. It would perhaps be the one day they could train without any eyes watching their movements. It was true that their kind could control their body temperature, but most valued staying home than venturing into the cold and having to exhausting themselves to stay warm.

"Warriors don't mind the cold," Eric chided every time. "Be glad I let you stay in longer. If I dragged you out here at our normal time you would be frozen right now."

Mikhail sighed. "Well I do mind the cold. And it's not good for me to be out here."

"Why you'll catch a cold?"

"No, Jacques will throw a fit that I didn't bring him along."

The two of the threw their heads back and laughed. Mikhail's younger brother always seemed to try and trail after his older brother to no avail. Eric wiped his eyes and went to drag his sword only for Mikhail's hand to touch his wrist, stopping him.

"Eric..." Mikhail turned his head up wards and Eric followed his eyes. "Look."

And there she was. In a lighter color gown, and her hair layered in snow almost as if she had been sitting there for some time. But even more than that...she was shivering.

"Eric...I think she beat us out here." Mikhail sighed and shook his head, only to jump as Eric snarled and slammed his sword into the froze bitten ground.

"That woman! What the hell is she thinking!" Eric turned and stormed up the icy path shape shifting as he went, taking the wing of a bird.

"Eric!" Mikhail called in warning, but it was already too late. Eric had disappeared up into the sky. Mikhail sighed and collected their swords. He already had a bad feeling about this.

At least now he could go home and be warm.

"You!" Eric snarled the moment he broke over the edge of the cliff, changing shape at he went. The woman jumped suddenly, sending snow flying off of her.

"I...I...I," She stuttered suddenly, struggling to get to her feet, but she kept falling over. It was then that Eric could make out the frost collecting on her hands, and the blue tinge to her lips.

Snarling, he grabbed her hand sharply, yanking her to him. "Don't you know how dangerous it is out here? It's below zero and you're not even keeping your body heat up! Do you want a death wish! Do yourself a favor and raise it before you get sick."

The girl lowered her eyes, icy tears starting. Her body trembled slowly, and he felt her mind spark to life as she tried to build heat within herself. For a second he felt warmth flood her skin under his touch, but just as soon as he felt it, it was gone. Shame filled her face and she looked away, biting her bottom lip.

"You can't do it, can you?" Eric grumbled, exasperatedly. "You come out here and you sit watching us every day and you can't keep keep yourself safe from the elements? How old are you? You should go home." Eric dropped her hand. "Go on, go home."

"Thirty-two."

Eric stilled. "What?"

"Thirty-two," She repeated firmly, raising her chin enough for him to catch the tears starting to fall from her eyes. Those big dark eyes caught him instantly, and he froze like a deer in headlights. "I am thirty-two years old!"

Eric should have seen it coming but he was so stunned by the way her eyes seemed to be so dark with flecks of light that he never even seen her move until her fist was lodge into his face and he was laying flat on his back staring up into the laughing face of Mikhail. Eric glare and struggled to sit up, swatting away all attempts on Mikhail's part to help him up. Once he sat up he caught sight of the mysterious female fleeing off back towards her home.

"Damn woman," Eric rubbed his jaw and winced. "She hits like a bull."

"She break your jaw?" Mihkail had to fight to stop from laughing.

"Shut it, Prince."

"Aww, poor Eric," Mikhail snorted and dragged his friend to his feet, helping dust some snow off his back. "But you have to admit you deserve it."

Eric stopped and glared. "What? For telling her to stay home where she belongs?"

"Well...No," Mikhail stopped to consider that. "She's still young."

"And that's my problem?" Eric snapped. "_She_ needs to stay home then."

"Still could have been nicer," Mikhail sighed and walked off. "You really can be a jerk sometimes, Eric. Oh what am I saying? You're an ass all the time."

Eric snarled a curse that probably would have gotten him beheaded if Mikhail's father ever heard it. Instead Eric stood there, heat collecting under his collar before glancing back at the direction the girl had gone. A small bit of guilt was there. Perhaps...he had been a little hasty. He wasn't that much older than her, but at least he had control over himself.

Besides, she'd be back.

At least he thought she would be.

She didn't show up the next day.

Or the next.

Or even the next couple of months.

Or even the next couple of centuries.

Mikhail ascended as their leader, Eric took to the ranks of a warrior, and the village slowly decayed away to nothing. Eric never thought of her for years. His emotions died away but that tiny spark of guilt held onto him the longest and was the one of his last emotions to drain away. Day after day he remember the look in her eyes, the pain on her face, and the way those tears fell to the ground. Her face haunted him for years. When he slept he replayed that moment in his mind, when he was awake, he would think of those days when he trained and she watched...yet he never said a word to her.

Whatever happened to her? He assumed she died. Like many of their people, he assumed she had greeted the dawn. It was a thought he had used to calm himself when he slipped into dark thoughts. He used it as means to motivate himself to accept the glory that would one day be the sun for him. If she could do it...then so could he. He held the thought to his heart as he traveled the world. From sea to sea he destroyed evil, he took out vampires of all kinds, but as the weary centuries dug into him, Eric knew he had reached the point of no return.

For one last act of comfort he returned to the valley where he trained with Mikhail all those centuries ago. He climbed the same slope to the top of the cliff and admired the shade of the trees. The moon danced in the sky as he approached, bringing back memories of a gentler time.

"You've returned."

The voice startled him from his stance. Eric's head swung around suddenly as a shadowed figure slowly stepped out from the shade of the trees. The color of the gown was different, her hair was a little more curled and her face sharper with age, but it was she. The shock of her face made his knees tremble.

For the first time in hundreds of years Eric's heart began to tighten as he finally recognized this woman for what she was.

His whole body trembled until he dropped to his knees a broken man. She drifted slowly towards him but said nothing at the warrior as tears glistened in his eyes.

Years ago he was content never having to see her again, but now he couldn't get enough of her. He couldn't...look away.

He felt weak like a child as he reached out for her with trembling fingers. "I..." He couldn't bring the words to his lips. All those years ago he must have humiliated her. He had shunned her without meaning to, and now he understood. Yet, here she was...as if she had been waiting all this time for him to return. "I...I'm..."

Her fingers tightened around his, and she smiled softly. "Eric. It's nice to meet you."

Stunned he stared at her as she leaned down, capturing his chin in the palm of her hand. "I'm Celeste, your lifemate."

With that being said, she captured his lips in hers. Neither of them said anything more.

After all, sometimes introductions aren't needed when the body can do all the talking.


	2. Complication

**Title:** H-E-l-P Spells Hell

**Theme:** #2 Complicated

**Rating: **PG-13

**Warnings: **Mild cursing, brotherly love, and panty whompings

**Pairing(s): **Gregori & Savannah, Daratrazanoff Brotherly Love, Lil OOC (maybe...)

**Summary: **In which Gregori learns that a simply pair of panties can make things go from bad to worse.

**Disclaimer: **All Feehans. Just my idea.

**But I do love reviews. They let me know I'm doing something right.**

* * *

"If you want I could always..."

"No, I got it."

"I could call Gary."

"No, Savannah, I got this."

"...and you'll do it the normal way?"

"..."

Savannah dropped her hands to her hips and glared at her lifemate for all she was worth. "I want this done the normal way. No magic, no tricks, nothing. I want our daughters to understand the fruits of hard work and labor. What would they think if you just went around creating things out of thing air? Where's the work? Where's the value? Promise me you'll do it on your own. Promise me, Gregori."

Shoving a large box out of his way, Gregori scowled at his lifemate.

Tissue paper and packing peanuts hung from his hair and dangled uncharacteristically from the side of his face. If it wasn't worth his lifemate's love to do this, Gregori would have just stormed off to his study and locked himself inside until her impulse passed away. He had gone through the same phase when she had suddenly had the idea in her head that she wanted to take up massage therapy, or when she decided that she wanted to take up flower arranging. The last one had left him smelling like roses, tulips, and bits of manure. Darius still had yet to let him live it down. But this...this was taking it one step too far! At least with the other tasks, Gregori was allowed to use his mind to get through everything in one piece.

"Savannah be reasonable," He tried to keep the pleading out of his voice but it was difficult. Especially with the pink tassel Savannah swung around like a weapon.

"Reasonable? Reasonable! You want reasonable!" Savannah slapped the tassel into Gregori's hand and stormed out. "You have three hours to get this done or so help me, Gregori, I'm taking my daughters and moving back home!"

"Savannah!"

"Three hours, Gregori!"

Gregori, the Dark One, the one who knew no fear and gave evil a smiting stare, flinched as he faced his greatest obstacle alone. His lifemate had abandoned him...and with no hope in his own abilities, he did the one thing any male would have done in his position.

He tossed the directions aside and got to work.

It should be well mentioned that Darius had respect for his elder brother. He also had enough respect to enter the home without knocking and thus...suffered for it.

Darius stared at a sight he thought he'd never see.

Savannah's once open and lively living room was blasted apart. The couch was over turned and pieces were everywhere. And boy was there a lot of pink. It was enough to make Darius itch at the sight of it all. And in the ring of destruction sat the single most scowling individual Darius had ever seen in his life: Gregori.

"If this wasn't so sad to look at I might just be tempted to take a picture."

Gregori snarled, and the house shook. "Shut it, little brother, and get your ass over here."

Darius chuckled and stooped to pick up a bright purple bolt the size of a quarter. Holding it up to his eye, he turned it around in his finger tips, snorting. "Why yes, Brother, I'd be more than happy to help you. It would be a great honor!"

"Grab a wrench and shut up."

Darius snorted and picked up a purple ribbon. "You sure about this? Didn't this come with directions?"

"Don't need them."

"...If you say so."

Gregori ripped the wrench out of his hands, and thumped him over the head with it. Darius hissed, and bared his teeth at him. "If you're not going to help then get out."

Darius grabbed the wrench back. "I do that and Tempest will have my head. She seems to think we don't spend enough quality time together."

"Because we don't."

"You go ahead and tell her that," Darius sighed picking up the directions and squinting. "I happen to like my manhood right where it hangs. We need these?"

Gregori took one look at the piece of paper scowled and shoved it back into the box. "No, we can do this ourselves."

"Alright...hand me that pack of stickers, would you?"

"Gregori!" Lucian sighed, finally frustrated from his brother's lack of attention. Storming into the house, Lucian halted at the scene that greeted him. Gregori scowled and Darius gave a glare that could only be copyrighted by one of Daratrazanoff family. Lucian blinked slowly, his eyes scanning the remains of Savannah's once spotless and beautiful living room. "Wow...What vampire did this mess?"

Gregori hissed, and Darius scowled, shaking his hand trying to free a piece of metal that had gotten stuck there. "Don't start, Lucian. Neither of us are in the mood right now."

"So I noticed," Lucian nudged the remains of something he couldn't identify. "You realize there are easier ways to do this."

"Savannah will not allow it," Gregori snorted, holding up a wrench of some sorts, and a package of paper. "It's the 'normal' way or nothing."

"Ha, then you fail, brother," Lucian took up the wrench and grabbed the nearest piece. "Let me show you how a true warrior does this!"

"Uh..." Darius twitched as Lucian jammed one piece to another with a sickening crack. "Lucian...could I say one thing?"

"I never asked you to hold your tongue before."

"And I am forever glad that you didn't," Darius sighed. "Because that's backwards."

Lucian promptly gave him a rude look and got to work. Within a few moments, Lucian was calling for Gabriel's help. After all, he did have a daughter of his own.

"Let me see," Gabriel took the wrench from Lucian and skimmed over their handiwork with a scowling focus. "You screwed in this part wrong. And look at that point! It's too sharp. Are you trying to put your daughters' eyes out? What is wrong with you, Gregori?"

Gregori snarled and shoved the contraptions towards Gabriel. "If you know so much then go ahead and show us how it's done!"

"Believe me...I will." Gabriel smirked. "Unlike the group of you, I have experience in this kind of field."

Only but a few moments later...

"Why...won't...they...fit!" Gabriel cursed and shook his head.

"Maybe we need the directions," Darius rubbed his chin with a scowl.

"NO!" Lucian, Gabriel, and Gregori all whirled on Darius in a single swoop.

"We are warriors!"

"We are male!"

"We are _failing_," Darius snapped. "Now someone get me the directions!"

The males scowled and proceeded to find the directions in defeat. They overturned boxes, moved pieces, threw stickers, and kept shifting looking for some sign of the single bit of paper that could make all of this right. They hunted, twisting and turning, but in the end all these succeeded in finding was dust bunnies.

"Ah!" Lucian jumped back from reaching under the couch, his hand cradling something.

"Found it?" Gregori lifted his head instantly.

"Define _it_," Lucian coughed and held up something light...and lacy. "But I certainly found something."

Gabriel and Darius stopped filtering through the pillows on the couch and backed away from the cushions as if they held some kind of disease. Gabriel coughed and Darius discreetly wiped his hand on his pants.

"Give me those!" Gregori snapped and lunged for the panties. For a man who had lived in nothing but darkness, the color took to his face quickly almost letting him rival the color of a tomato. "Those are none of your concern."

Lucian lifted the panties higher into the air. "Oh, little brother, I do believe you are blushing."

"Go to hell, Lucian."

"Been there, and as Jaxon says," Lucian smirked and held the panties up, stretching them before his brother's dark eyes. "Got the panties."

With a roar that shook the very windows, Gregori tackled Lucian to the ground, sending all their hard work flying. Gabriel yelled and dove to save their work at the same time Darius moved to grab Gregori by his shirt. Their heads connected with a painful crack and the two of them fell into the brawl. Lucian yelled and kicked, sending Gregori flying and rebounding off the wall. Gabriel lifted his arm to catch him, but it was no use. Tripping over Darius, and one stumble over Lucian's swinging leg, Gabriel went sprawling to the ground with a crash that sent chills up every male's spine.

And as God for see fit, the front door opened and a gentle cry carried through the living room. "Gregori! We're back!"

Savannah danced into the living room, holding the hands of her tiny toddler daughters only to stop in her tracks and stare at the wreckage of the room she once called a 'living' room. Now...it looked like a _dead_ room.

Her mouth dropped and she had to let go of her daughters to keep from swooning. Her master pillows hand stitched and carved with love were ripped and covered in bits of tassel, her bookshelf laid toppled over with bits of pages fluttering to the ground, her radio had stickers with little fairies attached to it, and right there in the middle of the room was the culprits.

"Gregori..." Savannah snarled, her hands dropping to her hips. Beside her, the twins giggles mischievously as they sensed the punishment coming towards their father. "What....happened...?"

Darius coughed and shifted along the wall. "Well, brother, it's been fun but I think I hear Tempest called. Can't leave her by her pregnant self for too long!" With a wave of his hand he called over his shoulder as he made a break for the door way. "Farewell brother...It's been an honor knowing you."

Gabriel winced and carefully jerked part of a bell out of his pants from where it had been hanging dangerously. Sheepishly he caught a glance at Savannah and smiled. "Indeed it was entertaining. I shall go and check in on Skyler and Tamara then. Savannah," He offered a pleasing bow in her direction before giving a sheepish look at Gregori. "My brother...it was nice knowing you."

And he too vanished.

Lucian didn't say anything, but his smile said it all as he grabbed hands with Gregori, carefully sliding something into his hands. Then he too vanished.

Gregori cursed them all. He cursed their blood and his own blood for this kind of hell. Then again it was his own blood...

What the hell were his parents thinking?

"Gregori...." Savannah's voice brought him back to the present, and what a look she was giving him. Cringing Gregori almost took a step back, but he was the Dark One! He made vampires flee in his wake! "What happened? I leave you alone for three hours to put together _two_ tricycles and...and you completely destroy the living room in the process! What the hell happened?!"

"Savannah, I can explain. There is a perfectly honest explanation," He answered calmly bringing his hand to wipe back the hair from his face only for something soft to brush his skin. Stilling he pulled his hand away and watched as Savannah's lacy panties flopped to the floor.

Unfortunately, Savannah's eyes also dropped and her face reddened. With a yelp she snatched the panties up and promptly began to smack him with them. "Why do you have my panties?!"

"Savannah!" _Whomp. _"Savannah!" _Whomp. _"Damn it, woman stop!"

Savannah took two more smacks before she actually bothered to halt for a second to catch her breath. "God help you, Gregori, you better explain what the hell happened here!"

Gregori looked at the mangled mess of parts and flinched. Here he was the best of the best and he couldn't even assemble the most simple of human toys. "You see..." He began slowly. "Everything was going fine..."

"Oh...really?" Savannah snapped her panties in her hand and glared. "Then what happened?"

"...The panties complicated matters."


	3. Making History

**Title:** Sometimes It Just Can't Be Made

**Theme:** #3 Making History

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings: **Angst

**Pairing(s): **Noelle & Rand

**Summary: **She would fight against any pre-dated history. She refused to let the fates decide her love. Instead, she would make and choose her own.

**3 Murgatroid-98 - Thanks for the review. Hah! Honestly though, if you knew a man like Gregori wouldn't you make him do it the hard way? I think Savannah secretly wanted him to fail. **

**I like doing these one shots considering I'm stuck at my extended family's house without my computer. Plus, I couldn't find many oneshots on fanfiction and that made me kind of sad. **

**Special note on this one. It was hard trying to find an idea to go with it, but then I thought of Noelle and I couldn't help but imagine just what she was thinking when she went against her kind's wishes. Was it really obsession that drove her to Rand? Or did she get suck into the darkness she was trying to keep away?**

* * *

She would prove them wrong.

"I, Noelle Dubrinsky, stand before you a woman..."

History damned their kind since the beginning. The strongest always won, but it was the strongest who nature destroyed. Be it animal, be it man, be it anything in between! Their death would true and at the hands of the fates whom nothing could control.

She lived as a princess, she lived as an honorable person, and yet she watched them all go. Mother, Father, Brother, Cousin, Friend...whatever they were called she watched them rot away and decay til nothing remained by the painful memories no hand could rightly hold.

"I stand before you a woman with just mind and heart..."

No more.

Noelle raised her head among her people, her eyes strong and fierce as she regarded them all one by one. The men whose souls were dying, the men whose loved ones wept and could do nothing, and the mothers who were no more than coffins to their children all watched as she knelt before their knew prince...Her brother.

History had decreed they would die. All who rose to great power died at the hands of fate. From gods to men of war; it was merely a matter of time.

"Fate says we must search for our other halves," Noelle spoke softly, as her hands clenched to her side. "But I say no more. I say nay! No fate, no god, no person but I know my heart as just! No person shall say what my heart wants but I! If the gods refuse to say it than I shall! I am lifemate to Rand!"

The stillness she expected. Insults even, but the looks of pure horror and sadness that crossed Mikhail's face stunned her to her place. Just barely a prince himself, his hands trembled as he stroked his face thoughtfully. She could see the apprehension she could see his very fear growing in him.

"Sister," He spoke, softly, much like he was touching the point of a dagger. "You are not Rand's lifemate. You can never sever the darkness to his heart. Can you live with that?"

As if he could tell her something she knew! "Brother," She said. "Brother of my blood you know my strength like no other. I can best all your warriors and even tango with the Dark One should I have to. If I cannot protect him from the darkness...then who can do better?"

"Sister, please."

"No," Noelle rose up, getting to her feet with her shoulders back. "It is my heart, my life, and my love and it goes to Rand. Our people die because we wait for someone to save our souls. What if it is us that must save ourselves? Look at our numbers, brother! Look!"

What few remained were huddled together, cuddling and seeking comfort. The women held their loved ones trying to shield them from the darkness they could do nothing about. It was sad...

No, Noelle decided, it was down right pathetic. And she refused to be like them. She refused to hold hope for a man to save her and be the one she loved. She refused to sit and wait for a man to save her when he might already be dead. No, she had Rand and that was her love.

"We have no choice to be picky. There are so few women, and even fewer children yet you expect us to save so many of our brothers? That...That is truly the impossible factor," Noelle proclaimed. "Sisters! Speak with me, do not be silent. I for one will not sit and wait for fate to decide where my heart shall go! My heart is mine to will."

Noelle refused to wait for history to made. She refused to wait til her name was written in death's book. No, she would make history.

"Brother..." Turning back to Mikhail she held his gaze.

It hurt him to do it. He went against every instinct he had...that their kind had.

"You have my blessings, sister."

Noelle would make history. For the first time of her kind, she would choose her own lifemate and she vowed to protect him from the darkness.

_Thank you my brother,_ Noelle touched Mikhail's mind gently. _I will keep him safe from the darkness._

Mikhail's face was strained, tense, but lacking any real emotion. _But who will protect you?_


	4. Rivalry

**Title:** Old Habits Die Hard

**Theme:** #4 Rivalry

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing(s): **Virkirnoff & Natalya, Razvan & Ivory, Sibling Love

**Summary: **Sometimes the things we miss include moments of immaturity that never dies.

**Yup another update. Why? Cause it came to me. I like writing these. They're kind of amusing. I got a list of themes to use, but like I said, I don't mind if anyone throws some out there. It could be a suggested group of characters or just a theme. I might not be the world's best writer, but I do try to keep the fanfic as believable as I can. I have read most of the books but it has been some time. **

**So yeah...haha. Read! Enjoy! **

**Review! They're like cookies to me and make me giddy inside.**

* * *

Sometimes, Ivory wondered, just how much did Razvan miss his past?

He never intentionally showed it, nor did he bring it up other than the few times it slipped from his mind. But his pain was always in the way he moved. When he ran with the wolves, Ivory could catch the faintest reminder of him as a child running from his sister's out stretched fingers, laughing and taunting them until she was near tears. Sometimes he'd feel guilt over it, other times...

Ivory couldn't explain it. Though his sister had tears in her eyes, Razvan could remember the moment as filled with love and joy. Since Ivory could empathize more with Natalya more, she couldn't quite grasp Razvan's point of view too well.

He had a family now. A new family, Ivory supposed, but even she knew it couldn't quite make up for what he lost. Most of the warriors had accepted him, slowly but surely, but his own sister stood far off from him. She feared being hurt again, she feared being betrayed, and those feelings kept her from him.

And it pissed Ivory off the most.

"She has her reasons," Razvan would always shrug away from it. He was use to Natalya's guard when it came to him. "I just accept it as it stands."

"Don't you miss her?" Ivory asked, prodding the subject a little more than she would have liked. "Don't you miss how you two use to be?"

"Asking me that is the same as asking if you miss your brothers," Razvan's words speared her in the chest, but Ivory refused to let it show. His eyes visibly softened and he caressed her cheek. "And the answer is yes. I miss her very much. I miss how we use to compete over everything."

"As if she could win," Ivory scoffed, trying to pick up on his playful tone.

"And she did," Razvan flashed a smirk. "At least she thinks she did. I was just nice enough to _allow_ her to win."

Yet they barely talked.

An Easter celebration had been set up together by Raven, and as much as Ivory didn't want to be around the _entire_ number of her people, she forced herself and Razvan to go. God be damned if she allowed him to waste any excuse he had to mingle with his sister. To her relief, Vikirnoff had showed up and managed to drag in Natalya. The two siblings refused to relax for most of the dinner and conversations, yet with a leveled gaze upon Vikirnoff, the two of them came to a silent agreement.

They stayed and held conversation between just the two of them. Vikirnoff barely spoke yet there he was talking technique with Ivory. On and on they went until one by one their fellow Carpathians departed.

"Perhaps you could show me this weapon?" Ivory stood up her seat. She turned and touched her lifemate's hand. "I'll be back."

"That was cruel," Vikirnoff sighed the moment the two of them slipped out of the room. The two of them mingled in the kitchen, their sensitive ears perked for any signs of conversation between their lifemates.

"But even you have to admit it had to be done," Ivory fought the urge to rub her hands in worry. "I want Razvan to be happy once more."

"Natalya misses him so."

"Why doesn't she let the past be the past?"

"That is easier said than done. You expect her to put aside years worth of feelings and fears? Could you put that aside for your killers? For your brothers?"

Ivory had to look away because the answer was plain on her face. There was no way she could do that.

"I didn't think so," Vikirnoff shook his head.

_Bam!_

Ivory jumped and whirled around for the living room before Vikirnoff could overtake her. The two of them burst into the living room.

Natalya was on her feet yelling, hands whirling in the air. Razvan was on his feet shaking his head, and scoffing.

"I'll have you know I'd be a good one! Better than you!" Natalya snarled.

Razvan snorted, "That's an unfair advantage considering I couldn't do anything!"

"Oh waa!" Natalya wiped a fake tear from her eye. "I'll show you! We'll have a whole team of them."

"Quality over quantity sister."

"Then Vikirnoff and I will beat you there too!"

Ivory looked at Vikirnoff for an explanation but the seasoned warrior could only smile and shrug. "She told him the news I take it," He spoke calmly.

"What news could make them fight like this?" Ivory watched Natalya bean her brother with one of Raven's cushions.

"She's pregnant." And Vikirnoff couldn't look any prouder. Vikirnoff looked at the arguing siblings and snorted. "Who knew that siblings rivalry would get them talking again?"

"You produce nothing but girls!" Natalya grabbed another pillow and smacked Razvan with it, nearly taking out a vase in the process. "I'll have a little boy! Just you wait, it'll be a little boy and I'll raise him to be a good man to kick your ass for his Momma!"

"In case you haven't realized," Razvan snatched the pillow out of the air and hurled it back. "_Nattie_," He sneered the one name that made Natalya snarl. "Girls are much more appreciated than boys."

Razvan got to his feet suddenly, and snatched Ivory by the waist. With a clear bout of showmanship he hurled her over his shoulder, much to her protest and bade his farewells. But before he departed out the door, his lifemate upon his shoulder, he turned and sent one last sniding smirk at her.

"And consider it 'on', Nattie. I'll show you how it's done."

But the only person who would know how _it_ was really done would be Ivory.


	5. Unbreakable

**Title:** Even the Strongest Can Break

**Theme:** #5 Unbreakable

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing(s): **Lucian & Jaxon

**Summary: **We marvel at her strength, but we never once stop to wonder just how strong that strength is.

* * *

Lock. Aim. Pull.

Jaxon never allowed anything to slip by her. She was a warrior in heart, body, and in the very depths of her soul. With each trigger she took out another creature and saved the world one more bit at a time. No evil could slip passed her, and if they manage, she had an angel at her back. Lucian never allowed anything to take her. Not even a gust of wind could graze the back of her neck without him so much as allowing it. But more often than naught, Jaxon didn't need her back watch. Since she was a child she learned that such luxuries would never be allowed to her.

Jaxon would barely know what a kind hand felt like. Yet, she was perfectly fine living her life like that.

She grew up at the trigger. She grew up learning that evil had to be contained. She grew up fighting and fleeing evil. It was only right that in her next life she would continue that goal. She had the experience, she had the skill...and nothing could stop her.

For the longest time, Jaxon had honestly never saw her lifestyle as odd. Lucian never commented much on her love for guns, nor her lack of feminine grace other than in a joking manner. Most males scoffed her once, but it was never long before she was at their side as a valued ally.

Actually...it was Francesca, in their meeting, that managed to disturb Jaxon's "happy" little world.

"You're a natural born killer."

Jaxon had bulked, her gun lowered instantly as she gazed at her hands. It was as if she were seeing them for the first time in her life. Slowly she turned her digits then glanced back at Francesca, the healer, in confusion.

"I guess," Jaxon replied, before raising her gun and firing another round. "It's kill or be killed."

Francesca couldn't deny that claim, but her words followed Jaxon. Jaxon had always seen her hands at a survivor's...she never thought of them as a _killer's_.

Then came Corrine one night, watching the way Jaxon calmly sat through an entire horror moving with her. Corrine had gazed upon her enviously as she twitched at every bloody blow the killer inflicted upon the Hollywood blond.

"You're so calm and collected," Corrine sighed. "I wish I could be that calm."

Jaxon smiled, but only she knew it was forced. If only she could tell Corrine that she'd give anything to be able to be scared of some fake blood. Instead, only real blood made her panic.

In the end, Jaxon had retreated to figure she hoped she could have a connection to. Joie and her siblings were kind and great. More often than naught, Joie and Jaxon would set up a line of cans and let their bullets fly. The two of them never had to speak much, but Jaxon always thought they shared something in common. The two of them knew what it was like to live with your life hanging by a small thread.

Or so Jaxon had thought.

A vampire had gotten his hands on to a small child and try as they could, there was nothing that any Carpathian could have done to save him. The little boy couldn't have been more than three or four when he was snatched from his bed, dragged deep into the mountains and tortured to his death. All the warriors had come in droves, many unmated, just to grant aid, but it was too late. The males grew stotic, but one by one the females all wept and clung in horror...all except Jaxon.

It was then the wall of separation grew between them. One by one, Jaxon saw them all crying, weeping for all they were worth, and among them, Joie wept the most as she touched the dead child's hands.

Jaxon was the one to break the sadness. She stepped forward, removed her jacket and laid it over the child's body. "That is enough," With a firm look she pushed Joie's hand away from the child.

Cold, calm, collect, Jaxon brought them back to control. She took the sadness and willed it away to the dark corner in everyone's mind.

It wouldn't be til later that Joie would look at Jaxon. Her eyes held little warmth as she held out what Joie had thought to be a compliment.

"You're so strong, Jaxon. It's almost as if nothing could ever phase you..." Joie brushed tears from her eyes. "I wish I could be like that..."

That night, Lucian awoke his arms empty. He froze, and moved the earth from his chambers as he rose. His skin prickled, alerting him that the sun had barely just begun to set, and with a slow cautious step he left the safety of his den seeking his lifemate.

Upstairs in a small bedroom that Jaxon kept purely to herself, Lucian found her. Curled upon the bed, a small blanket clutched tightly into her fists she shook and wept for all she was worth. Her hair clung to her tears, and she flinched when he drew near.

"No..." Jaxon wept, clinging tighter to the blanket that had once been her brother's. In it she could see his happy face, hear his voice calling her name, and it brought back the ache in her chest. The one that would never go away. With a tender hand she pressed her fingers into her stomach and wept harder. "No, no..."

"Jaxon," Lucian touched her shoulder and she flinched away from him. "Darling, baby," He called her every name he could think of as he gathered her close. "Shh, do not weep."

But his words couldn't stop the tears. Jaxon clung to that baby blanket, one hand holding it for dear life as she mourned the loss of her baby brother, while her other hand held her womb which laid bear of the child she lost.

No, Jaxon was not unbreakable.

She was the most fragile piece of all.


	6. Obsession

**Title:** When Lucky Must Be Had

**Theme:** #6 Obsession

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing(s): **Manolito & MaryAnn

**Summary: **A matter of confidence and lucky clothes.

**Yay another one! Obsession is the theme and immediately I thought of MaryAnn's shopping addiction...but then I got this idea. I'm sure we all have certain objects that give us comfort when we need them. And I'm sure we all know how it feels when we can't find them when we need them the most.**

**Special thanks to Murgatroid-98 and Abridgeofstars for reviewing!**

**I'm not kidding when I say a review goes a long ways. It spurs me on for another post and gives me help while I'm stuck in a block. So feel free to review. The last oneshot was Jaxon-centric! I loved Jaxon so I had to give her something.**

**Coming up I have the next theme done with the character picked out. **

**The next one coming up is "Eternity" staring a certain character that I have yet to see come up in fanfiction. I'll give you a riddle to figure it out:**

_**I am a flower with no roots.**_

_**With a life full of disputes,**_

_**I am a woman who bares claws**_

_**Living by my cousin's laws.**_

_**A life I carry deep inside**_

_**With only family along for the ride.**_

_**Who Am I?**_

**Can you guess who the next oneshot is about?**

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She was going to be sick.

Hands shaking, and fingers lacing between each other, MaryAnn felt as if she were going to be ripped inside out at any moment. She tapped her foot impatiently, and scanned the remains of her once spotless suitcase which now laid in ruins.

Everything she had brought with her were thrown about the room. Her designer jeans were hanging from the bed, the peach slinky top she had bought for her college graduation was half peeking out from under the bed, even the blue pearled necklace she had purchased to cheer herself up after her grandmother's death was thrown in a random pocket.

Everything was there…except the one thing she needed.

Manolito sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You look fine," He offered, trying to sooth her frazzled nerves. "This isn't a formal matter, MaryAnn."

Her finger lashed through the air to silence him. "Shut it, you," She started to turn over her mattress. "I'm not setting one foot downstairs until I'm wearing my turtle green sweaters and cozy jeans. Not one foot, do you hear me, Manolito? Not _one_ toe of mine will touch that bottom stair until I got my sweater on me—_"_

In a blink of an eye the a simple green turtle wrung around her form, and a pair of sleek but warm jeans covered her legs. MaryAnn froze and her tense expression softened...but only a small bit. Sighing she closed her eyes and patted Manolito's hand gently.

"It's not the same," She admitted bitterly. The sweater looked like her favorite one, her jeans were perfectly sized...but it just didn't _feel_ right. "You can't replace these kinds of clothes."

"Please," Manolito had never experienced a headache before, but he could feel one building as he watched her head for the closet, her fingers already looking ready to rip things down from the hangers. "MaryAnn, your parents are down stairs with my brothers. It is not that I do not trust them to be in control...but they do lack in the social department."

"Five more minutes." She tossed an armload of clothes out of the closet.

"You said that ten minutes ago."

"Well I'm asking for five more."

That was the last straw.

Manolito took her by the arm and with much dragging, whining and pleading, he tugged her back to the bed and forced her to sit long enough for him to grasp her hands together in his. "What is bothering you? Why is it so important to wear that _specific_ outfit?"

She needed clothes for confidence, but with a sweeping blush, MaryAnne fell silent and shuffled awkwardly in place.

"I...I just could use the confidence. It's not exactly easy going to your parents and telling them that not only did you find out about being adopted, _but_ that I'm also marrying a man I just met three weeks ago. I mean, my parents are pretty laid back when it comes to normal everyday things, but this exactly exactly everyday! What kind of person do you think they'll take me for? I use to bitch and moan that I was never going to marry because men are such _pigs—_"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Manolito sulked, laying his hand to her knee.

MaryAnn offered a smile, but it was weak with a gleaming bit of strain. "Oh, you know what I mean," She pecked him on the cheek, but the light had yet to return to her face. "I know it seems stupid, but that sweater and jeans have always been some kind of protection. Whenever I wear them, things just go easier. Sort of like a good luck charm."

"Not part of your obsession?"

"Hey! Every girl has an obsession. Some like drugs, others like shoes—"

"And some like to keep their parents waiting indefinitely with their lifemate's brothers' downstairs acting as hosts."

"I'm not going down there," MaryAnn jerked back and grabbed at the sheets stubbornly. "Just knowing my luck, Dad will throw himself at you, Mom will start crying and all hell with break loose."

Manolito tipped her chin back until he could kiss away that tender frown that threatened to overtake her delicate features. He could feel her anxiety building, and growing. Here was a woman who spent so many years watching failed marriages bring out the worse in people. Her words failed to say what she really feared: a bad start to their new life.

"You don't need a sweater or a pair of pants," His lips trailed to the hollow behind her ear, giving her shivers until she could do nothing but wrap her arms around his shoulders. "Not when you have me."

"And what kind of good are you?" She moaned when his teeth scraped her shoulder and he growled at her words. Chuckling she had to hide her smile behind a serious facade. "No offense, but you are a stubborn man."

"Ah, you forget something," Manolito hooked his fingers into the clasp of her bra.

"That you're incredibly sexy and endearing?"

"That too, but my dear, haven't you noticed? I'm a very _lucky_ man."

And he was about to get a whole lot luckier.


	7. Eternity

**Title:** It's Never Long Enough

**Theme:** #7 Eternity

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing(s):** Jasmine focus

**Summary: ** Time is cruel. Sometimes it flows fast, other times slow.

**Yay! I did a little dance today and did a rush edit on this. This one is based on _Jasmine_. Haha, loved my riddle no?**

**For those of you that don't know, Jasmine is Solange's cousin and Juliette's sister. She is a female of the dying jaguar race, and was raped and impregnated. In this Jasmine finds herself musing on the flow of time.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

There are times when things cannot pass quick enough. Though they happen in just a small moment, the whole time the mind is panicking and the body is failing, there is a lack of reality. A few single seconds could span and seem almost like an eternity had come and gone.

For Jasmine, it had happened only several occasions through her life.

The first when she was but a child. Death was a normal thing for children to bear witness too, but when she first saw the clashing of blood and tasted the thrill in the air, it felt as if time wouldn't move. People screamed, death ravaged everything she knew and loved, until she couldn't tell one time from another. Her body trembled but she didn't dare leave the safety of the pond she had been hiding in just as she had been told to do.

She felt as if she had sat there for years by the time Solange had found her. In reality, the slaughter and fighting had only lasted barely a half-hour. Yet, her clothing had been soaked through, her hair matted and eyes irritated by tears. With a slow touch, Solange led her away from the deaths, her arms draped over the smaller girl's shoulders as they stepped out into the world. It wouldn't be until they reached the coastline that Jasmine would finally feel time beginning again.

"Time's cruel like that," Solange explained during their late night talks. Or rather, during the time Jasmine couldn't sleep in fear of nightmares and Solange stayed awake with her. "It always plays pranks on you when you least want it to. Just think that it'll speed up again soon and you'll wish that it'll slow down."

Of course, time had it's own agenda.

Many times, Jasmine had stayed awake during the night waiting for Juliette and Solange to return. It was especially during these nights that nothing seemed to go right. The moon seemed to stay in the sky far longer. The nights stretched on and on, and right when Jasmine felt as if she were going to scream, the two would stumble in apologizing and holding her while she half cried, half scolded them deaf.

But the longest....and most seared memory she had would forever be in her mind.

She remembered the blood. She remembered being held to the ground until she could barely breath. Hands were there and no matter what she did, they never seemed satisfied enough. She gave them what she could. She gave them her tears, she gave them her voice and pride, she even gave them what little dignity she had left...but the night never came to an end.

They wanted more of her. They dug into her and drew blood. They screamed, and yanked her hair until she realized that to them she was nothing but a play toy. And their idea of play was going to go on for as long as they wanted it to. Her time with them couldn't have gone on any longer. She had enough time to memorize all their scents, all their voices, and scars. She could remember the way each of them slurred her name and their profanities.

She could even connect the touch of their hands to each of their faces. It was something she would never forget.

But in those times Jasmine learned something.

Eternity was not endless. Eternity always had an end. It was the one thing that helped sooth her fear of the forever. While most feared the end, Jasmine was grateful for it. Solange and Juliette had come for her again and again. They never let her down and she trusted them with everything she had.

"It hurts," Jasmine whimpered and shuddered under the pain.

Solange's pale face appeared in her vision but slowly gazed away. "Hang on, little sister, hang on."

Eternity was settling back in. Time was slowing down, yet Jasmine didn't feel much of the pain anymore. She hummed under her breath, and felt the warmth of arms gathering her. Solange was whispering in her ear, but Jasmine couldn't make out the words. Somewhere, somehow, she felt Juliette touching her hand, guiding her to touch something soft and warm.

"Please," There was Juliette's voice again. "Please Jasmine, hold on. Won't you hold on for us? For your daughter?"

"For how long?" Jasmine scowled, but didn't feel her face react. Her words were quiet and shaky. She felt so...loose, so disconnected. Yet she could tell that Juliette was forcing something into her hands. Something heavy for her to hold. And something very much alive. Whatever it was, it was bringing her back to the painful living, and Jasmine didn't like it. She tried to push it away but felt too tired and weak. "No..."

"Longer," Solange shook her, and helped support Jasmine's arms as she faded from them. Her eyes were streaked with tears. Juliette scrambled near them trying to halt the bleeding until the healer could get to them. Outside the storm raged and the house shook, but nothing seemed to phase the slipping life of their own little sister. The baby cried, still covered in it's own mother's blood, and wiggled for warmth selfishly. Solange bit her lip and hid a snarl. "I need you Jasmine. We need you always. We need you right here with us forever."

Jasmine gave a croak. "That's...a long time."

"I know it seems like that, baby, but it's not," Juliette pleaded. "It's not as long as it seems."

"It never is..." Jasmine frowned and shoved Solange away without warning. The older female cried out and struggled with her, but in the end, Jasmine sat up on her own or rather on her own as much as possible. Against her breast she cradled her small child, stroking her hair. "It never is..."

The baby's wails died as Jasmine cradled her. The night wore on, and though Jasmine sat there holding her daughter for hours, it just didn't feel like enough for her.

Eternity just wasn't enough.


	8. Gateway

**Title: **Crossing Over

**Theme: **#8 Gateway

**Rating: **G

**Warnings: **A little angst. I'm rusty on Natalya's story and didn't get to read much of Lara's so...yeah. Kind of out of it, unfortunately. Tried to make it as close as I could get.

**Pairing(s): **Soren

**Summary: **Feeling helpless is sometimes the most painful thing in the world.

**Yay! I'm on a roll here. Been doing little but preparing for graduation. Here's another oneshot staring the one and only Soren!**

**For those of you that don't know, Soren is one of the triplets that Rhiannon birthed. He was fathered by the evil, evil Mage and fathered Natayla and Razvan. **

**I wrote this as a oneshot thinking of it as Soren's "death", but before he can truly go on and die, he has one last task to complete.**

**The next theme I have coming is a cliche` one called "Death", and it will be staring another character whom few will know unless they have read Destiny's story. **

**So keep on reviewing and read! It really makes my day.**

* * *

Through the gate, just beyond the largest hill and in the smallest valley, there was a gate he hadn't seen for some time. There was a garden he hadn't touched in years. There was a home that he hadn't thought of in years.

Soren gathered himself in the haze, his eyes narrowed and awkward with each staggering breath. His pain slowly lessened as he walked the familiar path his feet had almost forgotten. He counted the small rocks, he counted the growing shrubbery, and found himself almost breaking into a jog as if he knew what it all meant.

So tired was he, so worn out was he, that he dared to pray that he would be there soon. The energy filled him with each burst of speed as he took through the hill. He felt like a child again, he felt joy, he felt fear, and it all felt so wonderful as he rushed forward. Overhead he felt the warmth of the sun for the first time since he was a child and what a wonderful feeling it was! He tossed his head back and laughed, throwing his arms out as he welcomed everything the world had to offer.

"Soren..."

She was there. Right in his path, her hands lying idly upon the wooden gate that he so desperately sought.

He froze, his arms dropping as the stunned silence overcame him. "No..."

Dark haired, dark eyed, and skin as smooth as silk, Soren knew that face. He saw a mimic of that face when it was a child, when it grew, and he seeing it again. The reality of it came crashing down, knocking the wind out of his chest. "It can't be...You're..."

"Soren," She reached for him softly, her out stretched fingers barely coming within a few centimeters of his face before he pulled away. Pain lanced her face, but it didn't take the beauty of it. Her hands cradled her face as two shiny tears rolled over her cheeks. "Oh, Soren..."

"Don't cry," He breathed the words before he thought them. His hands trembled as he tried to grasp the swelling in his chest. "Please don't cry."

The woman he never knew, yet knew all too well trembled for him. Her tears fell silently, but Soren could feel each one of her stabbing breaths. If given the chance, he knew she would be sobbing right in that moment. She was always crying. That much Soren could remember. He couldn't remember her face beside pictures, but he knew the sounds of her tears any day.

"Don't cry...Mother." The word stuck to his tongue, and she jerked back, her eyes flying to her face. He smiled, though it felt awkward after so many years before taking a step forward. "Don't cry, Mother, don't."

Suddenly she blocked his path, her hands jutting out to shove him back. "No! Soren, you mustn't! Do not come any closer."

Confusion set in as he stared at her then the gate. He knew that gate and he knew what was on the other side of it. He remembered all the time he sought peace from his father. He had gotten lucky once. He had found this gate with a welcoming woman on the other side of it. A woman that he loved and was loved from though they together knew nothing of one another. She was human, and he wasn't. But somehow in between it all they had found love. She had given him children...and because of him, she was gone.

Now he wanted nothing more than to go and see her again. But she was not of the physical world.

"Mother, please," He could have begged more but he refused to. "Let me through."

"No, Soren." Her voice cracked on that note. "You have to turn back."

"You're asking too much of me."

"They need you, Soren," She was begging now. "You can't leave them now. Not with _him_. They need you."

"Then you do something," Soren suddenly felt annoyed. "I have earned this. I have fought, I have done all that I can."

"You can do more!"

"Then you go and do it," Soren tried to move her, but she didn't budge and the gate didn't open. He snarled and rounded on her. "Let me through! I am not going to fight this battle anymore!"

"They need you, Soren," She pleaded her hands outstretched for him. "If I could take away your pain, I would have. If I could have prevented this I would have. You don't know what it's like once you go through that gate. You'll only be able to watch."

Soren paused. "Watch what?"

"Death, pain, love, fear," Her voice trembled as she recalled everything. "Your loved ones will call for you, they will beg for you but there is nothing you will ever be able to do. You think I couldn't hear you? Couldn't feel how much you and your sisters needed me? I always knew. I could feel every bit of your pain as if it were my own."

The shame scolded him. Of course she would know better than him. She died after giving life to her kids. She was _murdered_, but even Soren could feel that if she had a choice, a chance, she would have chose to stay with them. His eyes shut as he felt his own bitter truth. In a way he blamed her for her selfish death, he blamed her for not being there when he needed her, when Tatijana or Branislava needed her. She had been the selfish one by dying, but now he knew.

She didn't have a choice in it.

"I can't stop him." He tried. For many years he fought and tried, but he couldn't defeat him. The Mage was growing dark with power and try as he could to force that will back, Soren was nothing compared to the Mage. "I don't have the strength."

"But only you can hinder him," Her hand touched his shoulder and he felt it grow numb. "You know what you must do, Soren."

In his mind she sent him the picture. She showed him the book, she showed him his one chance to try to make things right. "Please, Soren. If not for me, do it for your sister, for your children."

Razvan...Natalya. The names echoed in his mind and his heart skipped a beat. He had nearly forgotten about his children. The ones that the Mage whisked from him. The ones that the woman who loved him bore him. His strong-hearted son and cunning daughter. How could he had forgotten about them?

The gate suddenly seemed less profound, less important. When compared to the lives of his children they were his everything. His meaning. His hope and future.

Soren's eyes grew strong and he faced his mother once more.

"Tell me what I must do."

The gateway to the other world would always be there for him when the time came again to cross it, but the lives of his children were far too precious to gamble away.


	9. Death

**Title: **I'm Here In Your Heart

**Theme: **#9 Death

**Rating: **G

**Warnings: **Tear shed ahead...maybe.

**Pairing(s): **Velda & Pater

**Summary: **He was dead but not gone. He was evil and yet she mourned.

* * *

"Happy Birthday!"

Velda clutched at her heart. "Oh, my dear word! Look at all of you! Trying to give this old woman a heart attack! Shame on you, shame on all of you!" Yet she still laughed.

"Oh, don't talk such nonsense," Nicholas stood at the bottom of the stairs, dressed as handsome as always. His aura was warm, inviting, and he extended both his smile and his hand in her direction to lead her into the crowd of guests all arranged like sardines in the tiny living room her and Inez shared. "You're as young as you feel and twice as beautiful, my dear Velda."

"Oh! This one is a keeper, Destiny," Inez elbowed the blushing girl in the side, throwing her sister a warming smile. "Isn't that right, sister? Nicholas is one for the record books ladies! A real gentleman at long last!"

Nicholas laughed, and everyone joined in.

Father Mulligan, MaryAnn, Tim, and everyone all laughed and greeted Velda with heartfelt eyes and mirthful laughter, but each sound only seemed to sear a tender wound she held tight in her heart. Wrinkled, old, and aged, Velda was anything but in the denial. Beside her, she felt Nicholas stiffened and heard his laughter die away. Right on cue he exchanged a quick and worried filled look with Destiny.

Velda promptly pretended not tn notice.

Normally she would have chided Inez for being so open and bold, and even more so for teasing the gentle Destiny, but Velda held her tongue. A gentleman was well and nice, and Nicholas was the embodiment of a the perfect man, but he was not the man she wanted.

He nor anyone else was the man that was made for her.

"Thank you all," She laughed, and took her seat beneath a tower of balloons. "For remembering an old goat like me."

"Sister stop!" Inez swatted her arm before smiling sheepishly at her guests. "You must forgive her. Velda always was soil sport when it came to birthdays. Why, I remember when we were young..."

Velda let Inez take their guests on a long winded time traveling tale back to the days when the threat of the second world war hung over their heads as school children. The tale wasn't all that appealing since Velda had lived through it once before and had no mind in her to revisit that time. Inez was dear to her heart, but Velda was more of a present person lately. A pessimistic, as Inez would complain, but to Velda she was finally seeing herself as the realist that she had long since put off being.

The party merged into a blur of conversations, hands touching her, mouths moving, but Velda couldn't bring herself any more to the surface than she already was. She mumbled greetings, nodded to a conversation, but the heart in her words were gone. They had long since died the moment she realized everything she had held out for was gone.

Beside her, Destiny turned her head and laid her hand upon Velda's small knee. "Are you alright?" She whispered, trying not to draw too much attention to Velda's distance. Velda smiled, and basked in the warm touch. Only Destiny's face could lessen the pressure that built in her heart. "Velda? Are you well? Is the party becoming too much for you?"

"Just feelin' a little stuffy, my dear," Velda lied, but covered it with a small wave of her hand. She felt horrible for lying to Destiny. The girl had suffered through something terrible, but Velda didn't wish to add worry to that list. But Destiny was sharp and she caught on.

"Velda," Destiny sighed, and gently stroked her wrinkled hand. "I was hoping you had forgotten about him."

Velda wouldn't have been more surprised if Destiny had slapped her. She almost recoiled and felt anger lash at her face. How could Destiny every think that? The years of life had been hard enough growing up. But growing up and knowing that you weren't quite human, that you would know things that others couldn't? That was pure hell. Velda always knew there was someone looking for her, and often she felt a soft touch of his mind.

She had thought him beautiful. Many nights when the days were hard and she was aching from trying to understand the world, she imagined him a man with a sarcastic wit, a man with a warming laugh who loved the sky as much as she did.

Velda never married because of him. She knew he existed. She knew he was real.

And now he was gone...but he wasn't forgotten.

"Are the dead ever truly forgotten?" Velda countered the question softly, burying her anger away. Destiny only worried for Velda's sanity. "My dear, I will never forget him any more than you could forget Nicholas."

Destiny bowed her head, and Velda reached to lift her chin. "Oh my child, don't be ashamed for stating your mind to me. You care much about me to be saying such things. I know you meant no ill will, and believe me when I say this old woman appreciates it."

"You're amazing, Velda."

"No," Velda smiled. She was _human_. "You're the amazing one, Destiny. You're the angel that many of us needed to fight the evil."

Flustered and still unused to flattery, Destiny blushed and humbly excused herself to get some air. Velda watched her go with a small laugh. The room was buzzing with laughter and games. Inez flitted about the group talking, and laughing it up. Velda's heart went out to her sister for having stayed by her side so loyally through the years. Velda smiled, and wiped a wrinkled hand across her face to collect her tears.

If only she hadn't waited.

Instead of neighbors, Velda would have children. Lots of children with children and dear Inez would be playing the spoiler like she always was. Velda's heart clenched and she shut her eyes from the imaginary scene before she dared to reach out for a dream she had long since put off having.

The sounds of the room fell away as Velda reclined into her mind. She felt her sadness gathering, and her amounting anger. So many years she had wasted! So much time! And he had already given up on the world. He had walked away from her and left her to rot and die all alone.

Her mind brought his face into focus. The evil sneer, the darken haze of his skin, then just as easily it peeled back the layers of evil like an onion. Layer by layer he returned to the person he once was. She could see him standing in an open field, surrounded by flowers that she couldn't name. He'd peek out at her slowly, turning to face her with eyes so sharp that she could feel her breath hitch at the sight of them. They were the eyes of a predator, but even before she could run, she could imagine his voice calling her to softly, whispering her name.

"Velda."

She thought it a dream until he moved to her, gliding over the flowers to stand before her at his height. His eyes, so filled with regret, threatened to drown her. Then, with a trembling hand she reached to touch that hard-lined face only for it to soften under her finger tips. Here he was, so beautiful, so warm, and yet he was gone. She would never be able to be with him. Tears blotted her vision, and Velda muffled a small sniffle before anyone would notice her possibly dozing in her own chair.

"Velda, I'm so sorry."

The words touched her, and she stilled in surprise. Unselfconsciously, she licked her lips and stared at him. She had to be dreaming...and yet his voice sounded so real. Breath trembling she dared to touch his chest, feeling for the spot where she had attempted to kill him. "Pater..."

His hand covered her's and brought it to his lips. Those eyes of his swelled with tears as he kissed the back of her hand. "Do not cry for me. It's not worth it. You helped give me peace, and for that I will always treasure you."

He didn't even know her. It had to be a dream, but Velda's heart clenched and she sobbed, nearly doubling over from the pain of it.

"No," She whispered, feeling her hearts and dreams surfacing. "This isn't how it should have been. You were suppose to have found me!"

"I failed you," His eyes shut in pain, but he didn't let her go. "And I will carry that grief with me to the next world. I will always regret not being strong enough." He cupped her face and touched her skin. "I should have held hope. I should have known I had a beautiful lifemate for me."

"You're sixty years too late," Velda whispered.

"You'll always be beautiful." Pater looked at her and for once Velda believed those words. He spoke them from his heart and she felt it in her chest.

Trembling, Velda lunged at him. His arms caught her though she thought it was just a dream she felt him against her. She could hear his heart beat as if it were her own, and she clung to him, unwilling to be apart from him.

"I love you," He held her, saying all the words he should have had the chance to. Velda whimpered and lifted her chin, but never got far. Pater took one look at her and captured her lips. Even though she was old, and fragile, he held her tight and close as they let out their passion in a kiss that grew all too real to be a dream.

"It's really you," Velda sobbed as they parted for air. Her wrinkled hands dug into his arms.

He stroked her cheek with the back of her hand and gently worked to free himself from her grip. He didn't answer her, but he didn't have to. Velda took in the glow of his skin, and the feeling of his body next to her's and she knew it. A soft sadness clung to him, hidden under the wave of his love for her.

"You have to leave," Velda whispered, already know the words he was afraid to say. She knew it as she pulled away that her fingers couldn't leave him. She couldn't dare to be apart from him. Pain lanced through her, and she knew he felt it too. "Pater, don't..."

"Velda, you can't," He choked on his own words, as if they caught in his chest and he couldn't get them out. A warrior without dignity...and he was now a warrior without his love. "I'm dead, Velda. You can't go where I'm going. I am gone."

"But not forgotten," She wept as the tears fell from his own eyes. "You are never forgotten, Pater. I tried living my life, but I can't. Please, don't make me go on like that. I might be alive, but I'm dead inside."

He was torn, but he was firm. "You made a promise, Velda.. Do not forget that."

Then he pulled away.

The pain was instantaneous. She shivered as if she had been dropped into the coldest ocean of the sea and left to float without a guiding light. Pater looked at her once more, but then he jerked away turning and walking through the meadow. Velda stood there, stunned by his rejection, and while her mind understood, her heart rebelled and wailed for him to take her back. With each step he put between them, the more pain Velda was in.

"Velda," A hand touched Velda's shoulder and she turned, expecting to find herself waking up and bawling in front of a crowd of guests. But what she found something else entirely.

Nicholas stood before her, holding the hand of Destiny. Instantly, Velda covered her face and wiped her tears, shame setting in as she remembered the promise she had made. She had said to live for this brave, brave girl, and yet there Velda was, getting ready to go into the next world. She had promised to bear this pain, and bear it she would.

Destiny stopped her hands, and wiped the rest of the tears away herself. Destiny's eyes shined and her throat failed to work as she wiped every single tear from the woman's face. She loved this woman. She loved Velda and Inez's quirks, she loved watching them jab at each other, and watch the neighborhood like a pair of watchdogs. They were strong to Destiny, and everything she had sought to be. To see tears on Velda's face, it was enough to kill her inside and out.

"Velda..." Destiny stroked Velda's face, glancing back at Nicholas. Her eyes shined with love as she finally brought herself to understand Velda. All this time...she had finally found her other half, only for her to lose him. "You saved my life, and I will never forget that."

_I love you_. The words hung in the air between the two females, tears spilling from both their eyes. Nicholas was silent, but his own love filtered over all of them, saying the words Destiny struggled to form.

"I...If that....If...If I lost Nicholas like....like that, I would want to be with him no matter what. I love him, and I need him like I need air to breathe. I would resent any reason not to be with him. I would do whatever I could to be with him. To be without him would mean to be dead to me. Velda, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for being so selfish. I had no right making you promise to stay here when you obviously aren't meant to be."

"Destiny, you needed me."

Destiny shook her head. "I needed you, but I have Nicholas now."

"You don't need me?" Velda felt as if she had just punched her.

"No!" Destiny shook her head, looking frustrated. "Oh god no, Velda. I will always need you. I will always want to see you and hear you, but what I want more than anything is for you to be happy, Velda. And if that means...going on to a place where I can't see you, then so be it. I only want your happiness."

Velda's hands quaked but she hugged Destiny to her, cradling that golden aura like the star that it was. Destiny awkwardly hugged her back, but then that hug turned to a clinging as she held tightly to the friend she was slowly letting go. Slowly, she pulled away, wiping her eyes and reaching for Nicholas' hand.

"I love you, Velda," Destiny smiled, and Velda returned it.

"I'll always be watching over you," Velda smiled. "I'll keep my promise, Destiny. You might never see me, but I'll be there."

A hand took Velda's. Pater was there again, smiling like something she had never seen before. He held her wrinkly hands in his young fingers and stroked her knuckles with his finger tips. Nicholas and him exchanged a look before Pater bowed, long and low. Stiffly, Nicholas nodded and returned the gesture to his fellow warrior, honoring him as the man he once was.

"You will love and protect her," Nicholas didn't ask, he stated it. "You will be with her in your next life and not lose her. She is a precious gem to so many."

Pater met his eyes. "I understand the cost of this. She is truly a precious person to so many."

"Then feel honored that she is choosing to be with you," Destiny stood at her lifemate's side her eyes weary. "You better not fail, Pater."

And he wouldn't. He didn't even need to reply for Destiny could see the driving force in his mind.

"Are you ready, Velda?" Pater looked to her, his eyes warm and bright.

Velda smiled, and touched his cheek as if it were a dream. "Let us go on, love."

"To the next world," Pater vowed.

Velda kissed him. "To a place where not even death can separate us."

With a heart heavy, Destiny returned back to her body, and leaned heavily against Nicholas. Right before her, Velda's body laid limp and quiet as if she were sleeping. Inez and the rest of the house laughed and celebrated the birth of her life, while Nicholas and Destiny quietly celebrated the beginning of the love Velda had always sought.

Destiny stroked her cheek one last time.

"Gone," She whispered. "But never forgotten."


	10. Breaking Rules

**Title: **Rules for the Weak

**Theme: # 10 **Breaking Rules

**Warnings:** Small crack? I don't know maybe.

**Pairing(s): **Eleanor & Vlad, including their loving family! Benjamin and Josef

**Summary:** Rules are made for a reason, but is that reason always clear?

* * *

Eleanor always wondered if there was some kind of rule book for all males of her kind.

Surely there must be some kind of code written somewhere on the proper etiquette of being a warrior who fought evil. She had years to watch and she came to a conclusion that yes, some set of rules existed..

The first rule of all was that all times, the men were to appear strong. Even if they had a sword jutting out from their stomach, or their hearts were lying in shreds, they would not flinch and always refuse aid. They would not cry, they would not wince, or even allow themselves to appear injured in any way.

Exceptions were made when said Carpathian was facing the daunting task of babysitting or should their human in laws be in town, they are allowed one night of an unexplainable stomachache. Or in the case of Traian, a sudden allergy to cats.

The second rule clung to the first. Under no means were they allowed to say anything about pain or express _feelings_ verbally in anyway.

Exceptions were made when lifemates are involved. According to Gregori, it was more dangerous to withhold one's emotions for fear of the female's wrath. Apparently, Savannah forces him to do much sharing at the end of the day. The punishment for not doing so involved two days of diaper duties among their darling twins.

Finally, the third rule pertained to all rules and could be summed up as one thing: Male Ego.

Over the years, males didn't express their love to anyone that didn't carry a baby on their hip, or was lacking something in their swagger. Males did not hug, cry, or cling to other males. Males did not kiss; they did not share their feelings, or even be in the presence of another male. Even siblings like Tomas, Lojos, and Mataias kept a professional air about them.

Shea had thought it to be the predatory side of their kind. Each male saw the other as another an opponent of some sorts.

Eleanor always assumed it was more about their ego.

Jaxon insisted it was male stupidity.

Eleanor firmly believed that Jaxon might be on to something.

The rules governed all the males. In fact, it was hard to catch a moment when one broke the rules. They were at all times, mature, composed, strong, and not what they considered "weak". They were ruled and they were followed, no matter how foolish they may be.

But then again, there are always exceptions to every set of rules.

Eleanor wrapped her arms around her chest and smiled at the scene in front of her. Vlad in his entire tough guy ego was trapped to the edge of the couch, unable to move. In one arm against his chest, their ten year old son, Benjamin clung to him, his eyes stained with tears, while in the other arm, the adult looking Josef dozed, one arm slung around both Vlad and his adoptive brother. The three of them were warriors by their kind's standards, yet there was no denying the love that poured out over all of them the moment Josef carried Vlad home.

A vampire had come close to taking her lifemate's heart. Josef acted swiftly, almost like a true warrior rather than the fledgling that he was, and rushed to help. He fought, he got injured, and as he stood over his bleeding adopted father, Josef wept like a newborn. Benjamin had rushed to his father's side the first moment he could, tears building at the corners of his eyes.

Eleanor unraveled a blanket, and smoothed it over her family. Lovingly, the three of them shifted, murmuring and hugging closer together. Eleanor smiled and brushed the hair back from her lover's face before planting a quick kiss to the crease in his brow.

The rules were made to keep their men from being weak.

But personally, Eleanor always thought rules were made to be broken.


	11. Thirtythree Percent

**Title:** Matters of Certainty

**Theme:** # 11 Thirty-three Percent (33%)

**Rating:** G

**Pairing(s): **Gabrielle & Gary

**Summary: **Gabrielle has always loved numbers because they could never hurt. But it seemed that she was wrong.

**On another note! I love the reviews. They made me all squealy during my sicky time. I love seeing the reactions whether it be a cry or a laugh or "wtf?". it makes me feel good that my writing is striking at least something. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Desertfyre! The next chapter (God willing it all goes well) will be forth JaxonxLucian you requested. I hope I can make it nice and fluffy for you.**

**Phantome101! A whole Dubrinsky family...That'd probably include Noelle, Jacques, Mikhail...and of course, the loving Vlad. Actually I think I might have a prompt on my list for that. For sure I have to put that on my list. **

**Speaking of the list this is what I have done and in the process of completing so far but I won't give the prompts because I like _some_ surprises:**

**#12 - Jaxon/Lucian - _Sometimes, our own preceptions are off._**

**#13 - Tamara/Gabriel - _The odd things our daughters do._**

**#14 - Skyler centric - _When it's forced it means nothing._**

**#15 - Possibly Noelle, Jacques, Mikhail, and etc when young. _- Everyone has to start somewhere._**

**Also I plan to bring in some back story to other minor couples. We'll just see where they take me.**

* * *

The first round of testing had gone well. So well in fact, that they were looking at a recovery of astounding proportions!

Gabrielle gazed upon the numbers joyously. For the first time in weeks she found herself actually smiling and not having to force it. Finally! All their hard work was paying off. The long hours that she put in, the seclusion, the frustration, everything! It was finally paying off as they came yet one more step closer to finding a solution.

"They're good, aren't they?" Gary Jensen looked up from his computer screen suddenly, casually wiping the drool off his face and adjusting his glasses. His back creaked form having fallen asleep awkwardly at his computer, but if he had any complaint about it, he didn't show it.

Gabrielle blushed and pulled back, taking a step further away from him and towards the other part of the homemade lab. It was a small facility that Mikhail and the others had graciously sought and purchased. Though it was small, the building was luscious with the supplies that any major medical facility needed. Not once did Gabrielle or Gary have to ask twice for something. Sometimes they didn't even have to ask.

It was the best damn job she ever had. Not to mention she could honestly feel as if she were making a difference. It filled her with happiness, and pride as she watched her work flourish before her eyes.

In all of Gabrielle's life she had squandered her talents, her mind, and came off weak to many in the scientific community. But here, Gabrielle found herself flourishing under Gary's wing. She learned, yes, but she also taught. Her voice had meaning here. Gary took notice, and he encouraged her mind. He was bright, he was shy, but he wasn't overbearing. He was gentle. He was kind.

And she loved him very much. But that was when she was human.

"They're great, astounding, honestly." Gabrielle's voice was nothing more than a whisper. It was so quiet that the squeak of the lab rat's exercise wheel was louder. The lab was normally so quiet she was almost hesitant to break the calm silence that she and Gary usually worked in.

The scrape of his chair made her jump and she turned in time to see him standing and heading for her. Gabrielle stilled, shoving the papers out in front of her so sharply that she struck him in the chest with a small 'oof'. He looked startled, but masked it with a hand over his face and through his thinning hair.

"Ha, you got an arm on you, Gabby," He chuckled, and winced, rubbing his chest. "They sure know how to make women, don't they? Didn't realized I could scare you like that. I'll make a note to be a little more noisy."

"I'm sorry," She blurted and winced. She moved for the first aid kit and grabbed a quick heating pad; the first thing she could think of. In her mind she was already rattling off everything that she could have done. Perhaps she accidentally broke his ribs. Oh, god if she had... Gabrielle winced, not wanting to think about it. "I'm so, so sorry, Gary. I thought I'd come in and see what you had going, then I saw the numbers and I...I...I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid," Gary leaned away from her when she came near him with the heating pad. "And I don't need that, Gabby. I'm perfectly find. You just winded me that's all."

"I probably burst a rib or something."

"Trust me, I'm old but I'm not gonna break," Gary caught her eye, and gave her a pointed stare. He was old. Young, a baby, by Carpathian standards, but Gary was human. He was pushing his late forties by then, his hair was all but thinned out and a lightening gray that served to remind Gabby that while he would continue to age she was forever stuck in time.

Regretfully, she almost wished she hadn't listened to Vikirnoff. Her human life might not have been perfect, but now she was—

"Gabby?" Gary touched her cheek, startling her out of her thoughts. The slight contact was all it took to open the mental path between them. The psychic abilities Gabrielle spent so many nights with Joie learning to control slipped free and instantly, Gary's surface thoughts flowed into her mind.

_Why is she so spacey?_ His voice was worried and it touched her heart. _Is she mad at me? I hope she's okay. Savannah was saying she was having trouble adjusting to her new life, but she's still Gabrielle. She's still Gabby._

Oh, what a man he was! Gabby licked her lips and struggled to find her voice. Gary's worry was new and welcoming to her. But more than that, she welcomed that he didn't see her as anyone other than herself. So many Carpathians were putting hope upon her. As a female of _their_ kind now, she didn't have a choice but to breed children for them.

That's why she returned to the lab. That's why she was willing to shove aside her feelings for Gary and move on. Even if she would hate herself for it, even if she thought it was cruel to herself, and to Gary she would move on.

He was a human. She wasn't.

She would find a cure for the Carpathians, for her people and her future children.

Even if it meant giving up her heart to do it.

"These numbers are good, right?" Trying to bring the conversation back alive, he spoke again, this time offering the research to bring her back around. She gave him a hopeful smile and nodded.

"Yeah," She cleared her throat, wincing when her voice came out husky. "Yeah, they're really good."

"How good?" He learned into her space then, capturing her body against a desk with a simple action. He didn't try anything, but she stiffened as he leaned over her shoulder to read with her. His scent nearly clouded her, but she sidestepped putting a bit of distance between them.

"I'd say forty to fifty good."

Gary frowned like a pouting child, then it quickly changed into a thoughtful scholar. "That doesn't sound good."

Gabby almost laughed. He sounded so sulky! "It's a lot better than what we had before! Before it was Ninety-eight percent of the babies were being lost in the womb. Couples had a one in sixty chance of getting pregnant, and even less of carrying to term. Only ten percent of those born survived the first year, and then only a fourth of that number made it on into adulthood. Shea managed to bring those numbers up by ten percent. Not much, but enough to help some. Lara doubled those odds, and finally Ivory tripled them!"

The graph was planted in her mind, just as it was in her sleep. It started off low but skyrocketed as their successes mounted. Slowly, but surely, they were finding ways of killing the parasites and saving the children. Steadily, the lives were increasing, and it brought hope for many of them.

Gary chuckled. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a numbers person?"

"My siblings all the time. I can't help it," Gabrielle shrugged. "The world is filled with numbers, fractions and percents. Math can be applied to any kind of circumstance. The world is based on numbers! Every decision we make we have a chance of something happening which is expressed as a percent. Nothing is ever certain!"

Not to mention that numbers were safe. Numbers didn't have emotions. Numbers didn't paint the world in colors both dark and light, but presented them as cold hard facts.

Gary's hand brushed the side of her face and Gabrielle froze as she stared into his eyes. Something flickered behind the tired lines on his face. "Isn't there anything you're certain of?"

His voice was pleading almost with a note that yanked at her heart. Gabrielle exhaled softly with her answer, "No."

"There has to be something," He insisted. "Everyone is sure of something."

"No," Gabrielle winced, pushing his hands back. "I'm sorry Gary, but there is nothing in this world that I'm one hundred percent sure of. I use to think that death was the only certain thing in this world, but now that...I'm..." She looked at her hands and clenched them. "No, now there's nothing I can be sure of."

The two of them stood in silence. The machines hummed around them, but neither was budged by it. Then slowly, Gary drew in a breath, summing up his courage.

"Not even me, Gabrielle?"

It was the question she didn't want to hear, but she answered it as honestly as she could.

"I'm thirty-three percent sure that I love you, Gary."

"Only, thirty-three?" He echoed it softly in disbelief. He looked as if she had struck him, but with a shake of his head he pushed on. "And what about the other sixty-seven percent?"

Tears swam in her eyes.

"I'm sixty-seven percent sure that we can never be together."


	12. Dead Wrong

**Title:**

**Theme:** # 12 Dead Wrong

**Rating:** G

**Pairing(s): ** Lucian & Jaxon per request, continuation of _Unbreakable_

**Summary: **

**Extra note:**

I seem to be having time line issues as someone pointed out to me. Darn! I could have sworn that Josef was older than Benjamin…But all well. I don't own the books that I need to understand that one, so I'll call it a mistaken on my part, though it'd be a waste to remove it. Darn.

This was a continuation from **#5 Unbreakable as per request.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

He rocked her through the night and never once did either of them leave the bed. It became a ritual as the days and nights spanned on.

Jaxon's nightmares lingered for hours, and at times, days. Lucian held her, consoled her, and whispered to her until he felt that his own heart was going to break right alongside her's. But they were strong together. He was strong enough to will away her darkness, and she was his light and motivation to keep on fighting.

The tears dried up and she got a little stronger, but there always apprehension there on her face. Lucian wanted to wipe it away, remove every memory she had of her pain, but it never worked. Once he had tried to remove her brother's blanket from her hands, and Jaxon had nearly taken his head in the process.

"Don't you dare," Jaxon snarled, and almost sounded demonic about it. "Lucian, I will not hesitate to kill you if you _ever_ try to take this from me again."

It was then that Lucian realized that the pain didn't mean much to his lifemate. She was merely happy just to have the memories.

But that didn't mean he could stand watching her heart bleed. It killed him inside every time he could do nothing but cradle her and love her. He was used to fighting evils. He was used to being the knight in shining armor.

"I don't understand it," Jaxon whispered into the crook of his neck. The moon was hanging in the sky, and she was wrapped around him, one leg wrapped around his, and her fingers stroking the baby blanket. "Why does it always end like this?"

Lucian wished he could answer her, but instead he could only stroking her head. "You mustn't give up hope, Jaxon."

"Everyone I love dies," Jaxon shut her eyes, feeling her eyes swelling up again.

"But I am still here." Lucian wiped her tears away. "And I will always be here."

She tried to feel the warmth of that thought, but it just didn't seem strong enough. "I know, but sometimes...I wonder...Maybe I'm...I'm not suppose to be anything more than what I am."

"My lifemate?"

"A killer," Jaxon ducked her head in shame. "A survivor. I'm not made to care, to nurture."

Jaxon cried out as she found herself flipped. Lucian loomed over her then, his eyes flashing as a growl rolled in his chest. "Don't ever say that," He grabbed her wrists and brought them to his face, pushing her fingers against his jaw, then her finger tips to his lips. "Don't ever think you're anything but perfect, Jaxon."

Warmth tingled through her fingers, and she shivered beneath his touch. "No one's perfect, Lucian."

"You are to me," Lucian nibbled her nails, kissing the back of her hand right down to her wrist. "You are everything to me and it kills me that you cannot see your own greatness."

He turned her palms gently, kissing and nibbling inside of her calloused hands. "These hands can pull a trigger without hesitation, but they are hands of a protector. Hands that belong to one that would fight all evil if given the chance—Not that I would allow it."

He chuckled, and she swatted his shoulder. Laughing, he captured her arms, and nipped the inside of her wrist playfully. "And these arms? They're strong and firm for fighting, but gentle enough to hold a lover close, like this."

Lucian laid his head in the valley of her chest, wrapping his arms around her. His hair fell over her shoulders, and her breath hitched in her chest. He was so large, and her so tiny, but she held him as if he were nothing more than a babe. "And this body so smooth and strong, is made to stand against all pain and act like an unwavering force for those in need. You are the tower that the other women look to for strength. You are their idol, as you are my lover, wife, and soul."

Jaxon shut her eyes, fighting the flowing of tears that threatened to break her all over again. "I'm not that strong. I'm just a woman. I'm just...I'm just me. I can't do the impossible. I couldn't...I couldn't even keep my own flesh and blood safe."

Her hands touched her stomach where she had lost her own son, where she had felt him slip away barely a week after his presence became known to her. The affect had left them devastated, but they moved on, with hope and strength as their foundation. Lucian took her fingers into his hands and kissed the very tips softly.

"You fought until the end, Jaxon," Lucian tilted her chin to brush her lips. "You held your son and held away all pain until he felt safe to pass on. You are a true warrior and honor me greatly with each day that you live. The pain that you are in shames me because there is nothing I can do but hold you like this and continue loving you as I always have."

"I don't want anything else," Jaxon buried her face into his shoulder. "I don't need anything else. Just you. Just let you be my weakness."

Her hand spread over her stomach, as he kissed the crown of her head. "One day," He vowed softly. "You'll see just how wrong you are. You'll see your true strength, Jaxon. I promise you."


	13. Running Away

**Title: **Running Off

**Theme: # 13 **Running Away

**Pairing(s): **Tamara x Ben (Non-canon, but I couldn't help it)

**Summary:** In which Gabriel stands toe to toe with his daughter.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He had taken on death and won.

He had killed many in just a small sweep of his hands

He could control weather, minds, hearts, but at the moment, Gabriel was completely helpless as he watched the scene unfold before him.

"Darling," He spoke slowly, gathering his wits about him. "What, may I ask, are you doing?"

His little daughter, his biggest pride and joy, stopped in her tracks and looked at him. She was barely school age and came no higher than the top of his knees. With dark curls that soft kinked, she looked so much like her mother, but with a chubby face and eyes much too large for her small face. She was very much like her mother than him right down to her stubborn being.

"I'm packing."

Gabriel shook his head, and tried to take the stack of clothes from her arms. "I can see that, Tamara. But _why_ are you packing?"

Tamara scowled, "Because…" She snatched back her sweater from his arms, and stuffed it roughly into her pink bag. "I'm running away."

Gabriel jumped, slamming his foot against the door, but the pain didn't clear his surprise. "Wait, what?" He shook his head, rubbing his foot, and trying to pick up the mess of clothes Tamara had left all over the place.

"I'm running away, Daddy," Tamara stated it so simply. She took her bag and put it onto her back with little care.

Still dumbfounded, Gabriel had to concentrate on his mouth to manage even the smallest train of thought. "But…what…You're four!"

"But I look six," The four year old put her hands on her hips stubbornly.

"Tamara…You are not leaving this house."

"But I'm running away!"

"I said, no!"

"You can't say no! I'm running away!"

Father and daughter locked eyes and neither of them said a word for a second. They were like statues. Gabriel scowled. Tamara scowled.

Then she dashed for the door.

And Gabriel tackled her.

In a mass of grabbing, kicking, and flinging, Gabriel and Tamara ended up as a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Gabriel struggled to keep a good grip on her small frame, but she kept wiggling, and squirming until with one last slip, she made it free and out of sight.

"Tamara!" Gabriel dashed after her, but she was already gone. He checked the kitchen. He checked the living room, the bathroom, the study, the bedrooms, and he couldn't find her at all. Just as he was running back towards the front of the home, he heard the front door open and caught sight of his daughter stepping outside.

"Ready to go, Ben?" Tamara jumped the last of the stairs and looked up at the young man before her with an eager smile. "You're going to show me the lake, aren't you?"

The man smiled, "Patience is a lovely virtue, Tamara, a very lovely one."

Benjamin was a warrior, and the youngest son Vlad and Eleanor. He wasn't loud or brash like his brother, but a far softer child growing up. His hair was curled and in his face, to which he pushed it back, revealing his mother's soft eyes. But the years were showing on his face now and there was no mistaking the hardness of a man that grew over him. He was still young by Carpathian standards, but he was nowhere near as young as Tamara.

Somehow, the age gap never seemed to delay the two of them. Especially not Tamara. She was stubborn, and with barely any children of her own age to confer with, she had somehow staked out Benjamin as a playmate-slash-babysitter.

Gabriel had always thought he liked the boy. He was quiet, mature, and soothing. Not to mention he always gave Tamara someone to play with. He would take her through their people's history as he knew it, and show her the wonders of his hard work.

But when he caught sight of Tamara pecking Benjamin on the cheek, Gabriel saw red.

"Gabe, don't tell me you're getting jealous," Skyler approached him from the doorway, holding a soda in one hand and a magazine in the other. She glanced out the window at the two, sighed and shut the curtains much to Gabriel's protest. "She's just a child."

"My daughter is running away with a boy!"

Skyler looked at him doubtfully, before walking off. "Tamara will probably make him play some kind of make believe game and he'll bring her back by bedtime. You worry too much. You'll get gray hairs just you see."

Gabriel growled, and lifted the curtain to glare. "Something tells me otherwise…"

Gabriel recognized the look in Benjamin's eyes.

And he was not happy about it.


	14. Smile

**Title:** Shameful Smile

**Theme: # 14 **Smile

**Pairing(s): **Family Sky & Gabriel

**Summary:** Sometimes it's just not easy.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Honey, if you love me smile."

"Oh god, I hate that game."

Skyler threw a shoe at Josef's head, only for him to snatch it out of the air with gaping laughter. "Josef, will you shut up and actually do what Byron told you to do? You're supposed to be practicing."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Josef looked anything but. "It's just hard to focus on an owl, when you're sitting there scowling."

"I was not scowling," Skyler reached for her other shoe, thankful that it was a good warm day instead of a frigid cold one. She could stand to lose a few shoes for the moment. "I was thinking."

"Then do me a favor and think dirty thoughts so you'll stop looking like a constipated c—Ow!"

Skyler smirked when her first shot struck him in the back, and by the time Josef spun around to defend himself, she already had the other shoe flying. It struck him between the eyes, sending him sprawling backwards into the bushes. She cackled under her breath and folded her legs gracefully on her self proclaimed stump.

The afternoon sun danced behind her, and warmed her skin to the point that she'd probably end up a bit burnt by tomorrow. But it was worth watching Josef make a fool out of himself.

"That…was not cool!" Josef clamored out of the trees, a large twig sticking out is his hair. "I almost had it!"

"Had what? A clue?" Skyler doubled over laughing as he yanked at the stubborn stick.

Josef froze, and snapped the stick in half. A big cheesy grin spread over his face, and Skyler froze, her breath catching in her chest as realization dawned on her.

"You smiled," Josef spoke slowly, his eyes glowing. "Skyler smiled!"

"I…I did not!" Skyler's face turned warm, and she turned away from him, presenting her back. "I merely laughed at your idiocy."

His face popped over her shoulder and into her face. So close that Skyler jumped back, nearly falling off her seat. A small glint of fear glowed in her eyes, but Josef didn't seem to notice as he continued to move closer. "Yes, you did!"

"I…I did not! Josef, leave me alone!" Skyler shoved passed him and got up quickly.

"Why?" He sat back, folding his arms like a pouting child instead of the young adult that he was. "Why are you so ashamed to smile?"

_Because it's hideous. Because it's scarred…Because I don't know what it's like to smile for real._ Skyler shrugged the comments aside. "I'm a teen; since when do we like to smile?"

She left it at that. Or rather she tried to, but Josef didn't look like he was buying it. Skyler had to admit she didn't buy it either, but rather than sit there and wait for him to bring it back up, she got off the stump and headed for home, bare footed as could be.

Francesca didn't ask, and neither did Gabriel, and for that, Skyler was immensely happy as she climbed the stairs to her room. In this home, she had so much freedom, so much love, and care, yet she couldn't help but still draw back into the shell she had built inside of herself. Try as she could, she would always feel secure in herself.

The world was a cruel place. People like Josef, the ones that knew only love, could never understand what it felt like to stand in a room full of people and be as lonely as if they were the only ones in the world.

Skyler clenched her pillow to her chest, remembering the man that had raised her for years. She could remember the way his hands grabbed her, she could remember the smell of him, but most of all she remembered his voice.

"_Smile, girl. Smile, damn it."_

He had to be God. He had to be big.

"_Smile if you love me. Smile, damn it! Show me you like it."_

And she had. She smiled when he commanded it.

She only knew to fake a smile, but to give a real one? She didn't remember.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I think that green looks very lovely."

"Are you sure this is fine?"

Skyler held out the velvet shirt in front of her, self conscious glancing at the vivid red dress Francesca wore, and the matching one Tamara was playing with. She felt so out of place against all of them. They were all so beautiful…and she wasn't.

Francesca placed a finger under her chin, and smiled simply. "You look very lovely, Skyler. Green is good color to wear. It's soothing, soft, and kind…"

"Not to mention," Gabriel broke the conversation but strutting in the room with his head high. He dominated the room instantly, but his warm smile and the way he laid his arm over Skyler's shoulders made her feel warm and safe. "I finally have an excuse to wear this."

Proudly, he displayed his green hand knitted sweater with a big red heart on the front.

On any one else, it would have perhaps been interesting, but on a man who killed for centuries, and faced battles that would make Alexander the Great squeamish, he looked like a bleeding bush.

Skyler's lips twitched at the corners right as Francesca snapped a picture of the two of them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I'm sorry."

Startled, Gabriel jerked his head up from his book as Skyler entered his study late a few nights later. "Whatever for?"

Skyler gestured holding out a picture to him. "For…that."

Gabriel blinked and turned the pictures over slowly. "Did you give me rabbit ears?"

She snorted, "No. I can't even reach that high."

"Did you spill something on it?"

"No…"

"Then why are you apologizing?" Gabriel looked at her in confusion.

"That," Skyler tapped the family photo of her Gabriel, Francesca, Tamara…and herself. "For…ruining that."

Gabriel looked closer, trying to find her meaning. Gabriel and Francesca leaned against once another behind a plush chair where Skyler sat with baby Tamara balanced pleasantly upon her lap. "Oh!" He blinked as he pulled away suddenly, holding the picture out. "That."

Skyler flinched and bowed her head. "I'm really, sorry Gabriel. I…I just can't do anything about it."

"Well, what's done is done," He put the picture back on a proud display. "But next time, make sure your skirt covers your knee."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You don't see it?"

"Don't see what? Is this one of those female questions?" Gabriel looked confused. "Honey, you can ask Francesca, I'm not very observant sometimes."

"How about all the time!" Skyler tossed her hands into the air. "Gabriel, look at my smile, it's all messed up!"

Gabriel started at her quietly. "I think you're smile is very beautiful, Skyler."

"It's lopsided," Skyler murmured.

"And so is my head," Gabriel pointed at the picture. "And Tamara is sucking on her cheek, and Francesca was wearing uncomfortable underwear."

He waved his hand through the air, to cut off any part of her argument. "It is a family picture Skyler. We are suppose to dress up, look uncomfortable, put on a few fake smiles and get a picture taken. I'd be more worried if you could fake a real smile whenever you wanted."

"You're not upset?" Skyler swallowed shallowly, the scared light coming back to her eyes. It was the same look that came back every time she was confronted with the darkness of her past.

Gabriel stared at her, then slowly moved his chair back, patting his leg. "Come here, Skyler," He called her softly, but leaving the invitation open. She was not a child, but a young woman, but she surprised him when she moved towards him, carefully take his lap like a timid child.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around her, and held her like he held Tamara, he welcomed Skyler's tiny spirit in his arms. She had never been held like this, and though Skyler had expected it to be awkward, she was taken by surprise of just how comfortable she felt. Her arms wrapped around Gabriel's shoulders and she laid her head to his chest, wanting to curl up in the warmth she had missed for so long. The whole time, Gabriel did not fight, he didn't cringe or look uncomfortably at her, but he did rub her back and murmur soft things to her.

"You'll smile when you feel like smiling and I will expect nothing less of my daughter," Gabriel spoke firmly, his words rich with the truth.

And for once, Skyler found herself smiling.


	15. Memories

**Title: **Patience

**Theme: **Memories

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings: **

On that note, this story is one of the requested regarding the Dubrinsky family with Vladimir and his lovely wife Sarantha. This one particularly came to me during class so I ran with the idea, letting my fingers spill the fluff so it might not completely align with the books.

In this one, I believe that Mikhail is older than Jacques, and I figure by a century or more.

**Pairing: **Sarantha x Vlad, Raven x Mikhail

**Summary:** Waiting can be nerve wracking, painful, funny, and all other things, but when being patient, one learns to find love in what they have.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Is she well?"

"As well as she can be," Vladimir Dubrinsky regarded his eldest son with a calm stare. The two of them faced the doorway, arms folded like statue warriors. Although they were centuries apart, father and son, the two of them appeared like brothers. With the same dark hair, and stern features they both held the regal line of their family with honor. "It hasn't been as easy for some as of late. Midwives are becoming almost scarce, we are lucky to have what few we do."

Mikhail nodded slowly. "Perhaps then we ought to seek the aid of a human one, with your approval of course," Mikhail tacked on the last bit as he caught the flare in his father's eyes. "I know it is not the kindest option available, but perhaps it is the safest."

He did not want a human near his family, especially not his wife while she lay in such a fragile state. Vladimir would not allow Sarantha to fall to harm just because one human made a terrible mistake. And if it should come to that, Vladimir would not hesitate to slaughter the human and grant the myths of his kind true. He would slaughter the human, the human's family, and everything that stood between him.

"Perhaps it is not the safest," Vladimir shut his eyes and stifled the pain growing in his skull. He looked aged, worn and far from being the great warrior he once was. Now he was an elder ruler, with a race of people that slowly seemed to be fading. "I pray thee son that one day you should never have to make the choices that I do now."

"I admit that I do not envy you, Father," Mikhail, always the devoted son, reached for his father and clasped his wrist in his hand. Already he was losing his feelings, his colors, and everything, but his smile always seemed to hold a little spark. "But I have faith that if there is anyone that could lead us through this, it is you, Father. Someone strong, courageous; you will guide us Father, I know it."

But Vladimir wasn't so certain. The future was always upon his eyes, but he shared little. He did not tell his son of the warriors he sent away, he did not tell his son of the dreams that plagued him, ones so hellish that he could taste blood when he woke.

He squeezed his son's arm, and smiled tightly. "Let's hope that you are not mistaken, Mikhail."

"How can I be? I am your son."

_Then the Gods help you, my son._ Vladimir nodded and clamped a tight mental hold on his mind as a thin framed woman with a swollen stomach swept into the room. The thin silk dress she wore did little to conceal her skin, but in the hot summer of the mountains it helped calm her aches and pains.

"Sarantha," Vlad was at her side in a second, Mikhail on her other, helping guide her to sit. "You should be resting in your room as Cecìla instructed. What is the use in having a midwife if you do not listen to her?"

"I am fine, I am fine," Sarantha waved the two men off of her, only to double over with a sharp gasp cause both to grab her at the same time to keep her steady. Sarantha looked up between them, her brown eyes sparkling before she gave a pain staked laugh. "This little one is very bossy, yes? Perhaps I should rest…"

"In your room," Mikhail spoke, sternly. "You are no shape to be on your feet, Mother."

Sarantha bristled under her own son's tone, but regarded him with a regal stare. "Aye, but who are you to speak to me as such, Mikhail? T'was not long ago that I bore you as I now carry your brother. But a century ere you used much of my kidneys for practice."

Mikhail flinched, but he did not loosen his grip. "You do not mean to blame me for what I did in the womb, do you Mother?"

"If it provokes enough guilt from you to allow her what she desires, then she will son," Vladimir sighed heavily. "Welcome to the wonders of pregnancy, Mikhail. It is a time when even the most sweetest of women become vampires in their own right."

Mikhail looked at his mother as if she had just sprung another head.

Sarantha sniffed, and sprung herself free, tossing her head high. "Ah, it is also a time of celibacy for all snotty males."

"Sarantha…"

"Take your regal pompous ass and shove it where the Gods split you, my lord," Sarantha snapped, throwing her arm back from her lifemate and stubbornly waddling outside, one hand balancing her ballooning stomach. "If you two insist upon being company better suited for Hell, then I will go to the garden alone."

Vladimir made a noise of distress. "You cannot go alone."

"I am not alone!" Sarantha gestured peevishly to her stomach. "I am with my son!"

Mikhail flinched as Sarantha kicked one of his father's statues and sending it crashing to the ground in her exit. Bewildered, he could only look at his father in shock. What had become of his loving mother?

"Pregnancy," Vladimir groaned, carefully picking up the broken pieces. "She is sweet, kind, loving, but when her belly is enlarged as so, sometimes I wonder if she is secretly a harpy."

"That is not kind," Mikhail snorted, but couldn't agree more. "You make her sound evil."

"You were but in her belly when she took a dagger to my bed."

Mikhail looked aghast. "She tried to stake you?"

"Not stake…" Vladimir winced. "Geld."

The two men shared an unfortunately moment of wincing, each mentally stroking their manly bits. Mikhail was still young, but he did not favor the time when he soon would come face to face with a woman of his mother caliber.

With slow caution they peeked into the garden as the night began to wane. Sarantha had not entered the home, and blocked Vladimir from entering her mind. She kept her mind tightly sealed to them all until curiosity got the better of the two.

"Go," Vladimir shoved Mikhail forward. "You speak with her. You are her son."

Mikhail shot him an indignant look. "And you are her lifemate."

"Ah, but she wants to be a grandmother one day. She will leave all of you intact." With one final shove, Mikhail had no choice but to approach his mother as slow as he dared.

"Mother?"

Sarantha's head rose quickly, and she paused. Her dark hair fell about her face, illuminating her face with a gentle smile. Of all the women, Sarantha held a "baby face" of sorts. With round cheeks, and ever gentle eyes most males assumes her but a young girl. When near his father, Mikhail could see why she was assumed so young.

Whatever anger she had was gone as she welcomed him near her resting place. Beneath the tallest tree in the garden, she had laid out a small silk blanket with a few pillows for her back where she allowed her hands to trail along her swollen belly. She looked so surreal beneath the moon, so eternal and lovely that Mikhail could fully see the glow that surrounded her.

She spoke with a smile. "You called me, my son?"

Mikhail moved a bit closer, before slowly allowing himself to take a seat beside his mother, though a few feet away. A glimpse of sadness flashed in Sarantha's face but before Mikhail could realize what it was, the glint was gone and she was smiling once more.

"You are scaring Father," Mikhail spoke bluntly, staring his mother down.

Sarantha threw her head back and laughed, the laughter sounding like a bubbling brook. "My child, dear Mikhail, a little fear is healthy for a man of his age."

"He is worried, and you are unreasonable," Mikhail's lips drew together in a thin line. "You are with child, Mother. To recklessly ignore the advice of everyone around you is arrogant and dangerous. Do you play games with my unborn brother's life?"

The accusation sounded cold, but Mikhail could not bring it back. His mind processed the words slowly, deeming them fine to be said, but the look his mother gave him mirrored a reaction as if she had stabbed him. Her hands tightened in the folds her gown, then slowly tailed to the crest of her stomach.

"I do no such thing," Sarantha spoke slowly, testing her words. "But would you rather I hide myself Mikhail? Is it so shameful to bear a child?"

"That is not what I mean," Mikhail stubbornly glared at her. "You are picking at my words. Father and I wish you to be safe and you must stay near to be safe."

"And deny myself the pleasures that I adore?" Sarantha arched a brow and lifted head to the moon. "Look up there, Mikhail and what do you see?"

Mikhail frowned. "Mother…"

"Just look," She pointed. "Look to the stars and the moon. Look at the sky and tell me what you see Mikhail."

He caved and looked up. "I see the moon."

"And what does the moon look like?" Her voice had an odd hitch in her voice.

Mikhail frowned. "It is the moon; it looks as it always has."

"Does it?" Sarantha stared him now, her eyes sharp, while her fingers rubbed the turning child in her stomach. "Can you see the glow of the moon? Can you see the rainbow of light that surrounds its very essence or the bright red of the loving star in the sky? What of the green trees or the white of the cosmic clouds? Can you not see them, my son?"

His silence was all the answer she needed.

Sarantha turned her head in disgust, but not at her son, but at herself. "I sit and I hold this babe just as I held you once, as I held your sister and your brother before you. He shares with me as all of you have before. He tells of his pain, his likes and wishes. He is living, he is breathing and he is strong. He holds much hope for this world and longs to see it. He does not know of the darkness that will one day take him. He does not know of the curse of his people."

"Mother...Do not be so morbid."

"How can I not be when I feel the tenderness of my sons pulling away from me?" Tears covered her lashes like droplets of diamonds. "He is so young, Mikhail, so hopefuly..."

She took Mikhail's hand in hers and brought her full grown son's hands to her stomach. "He is very curious of this world, Mikhail. How can I deny him this one pleasure? I cannot protect him once he leaves the safety of my body..."

His hand seemed so large compared to her small frame. Mikhail stared at his hand, feeling distant warmth in his chest. The years were tolling on him, and slowly he was feeling the drain of the aging for all his kind's men. He could try to hide it. He could ignore it at times and feel almost sane. But with his large hand cradling his mother's stomach, he finally took account of what he lost.

Here he was, his mother's son, and yet unable to recall much warmth other than the memory of love he had. Here was the woman that had guided him in his studies when his father proved difficult, the woman who had kindly cradled him without him asking to be, the woman that knew him and held him dear to her heart, yet he could only _remember_ the love for her.

"Ah, little brother," Mikhail leaned forward against his mother's womb, his fingers gently coaxing the little one that had yet to see the world. "Be patient. Do not rush your way into the world just yet. Keep our mother company and bask in her love a little longer for she loves you so. Though she will not say it, I know that she will miss holding you so close to her. Enjoy it, little brother, until the world is ready for you."

With tears in her eyes, Sarantha gave Mikhail close, embracing him as if he were her little boy again, while her other hand held her unborn child. "You can bask in my love too, Mikhail. Always and forever just like this."

Time faded away the tree and it waned on its last moments of life. Mikhail stared at the final blooming buds, knowing that perhaps one day the tree would cease to exist. The garden had changed, the home had change, but the feeling of love, his mother's very presence, was always there. It was in the wood of the home, the hearth which warmed it, the grace of his daughter's smiles and the warmth of his lover's arms.

Approaching the tree, he leaned against the old trunk and stared down at his lover's form, his eyes taking in the way her nightgown ruffled in the breeze, and the way her hair curled about her face. With slow grace he took his seat beside her and laid his hand against her swelling stomach.

"The moon's beautiful," Raven breathed against the night wind.

"It is," Mikhail smiled and laid his head upon his love's stomach, his fingers caressing the life inside. "The world is waiting for you little one, but there is no rush…No rush at all."


	16. Excuses

**Title: **Too Late

**Theme: **Excuses

**Pairings: **Colby x Rafael

**Summary:** It's just easier to make up reasons not to, than to brave the sea and do it.

**This is a fanfic depicting how I imagine Colby meeting her father for the first time. It just kind of came to me so I had to write it.**

**Also, I'd like to apologize for the note that was up on this story. It wasn't meant for this story, but in my haste of doing things (and being a crazy oof) I managed to put it to the wrong story so it has been fixed (hopefully). **

**I hope this chapter makes up for my mistakes!**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"It's too late."

Rafael grasped his lifemate's hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips. The darkness in his eyes clashed with the warring of her emotions as it spilled over into him. He could taste her fear, the anger, and the confusion that steadily grew within her.

"If there is anything you have taught me, Colby, it is that there is no such thing as 'too late'."

His lifemate shot him an outraged look, jerking her hand away from him and back to her lap. The swirls of her red hair tumbled free from her wide brim hat, and the dirt from that morning's ride covered her clothes, yet she never looked anything short of a miracle to him.

For hundreds of years he had gone without color, but now Colby offered him a life of it. Her red hair was as red as the passion between them, her eyes bright like the love she held for all her family and his; she was nothing short of a god granted miracle to him, and Rafael only wished for her happiness.

Even if she did not wish to see it herself.

"There can be no harm in meeting them or in seeing them," Rafael tried to calm her. He reached for her mind to give it a small touch, but flinched when all he found was the ache of pain. Instantly he reached for her, but Colby moved aside. "Colby..."

"Don't," She shuddered, arms wrapping upon herself. Her eyes looked at him thick with betrayal. "Rafael, I trusted you. I told you I never wanted to meet him."

"He is bringing your uncle and a woman with him; she is your sister, Colby."

"I already have a sister," Colby spoke, her voice lashing as much as the anger in her eyes. She stamped her foot angrily, and the ground shifted causing the horses to stir. "And a brother! I have a fine set of siblings and a loving family. What business is it of yours to say otherwise?"

"He is your blood—"

Colby whirled on him, and did something he never expected her to do. She grabbed her wrist in her teeth and shredded through it. Blood spurted from her arm, down her face and covered her so quickly, that Rafael's knees nearly gave out on him in shock. All the while her eyes flashed and brimmed with the flames of hell. Then, with deliberate slowness, Colby turned her head and spat at the ground, leaving a sharp dribble of blood on the darken dirt.

"That," She snapped. "Is what I think about _his_ blood. If I had the choice between having acid or his blood in my veins, I would take the acid without hesitation."

Rafael could only watch helpless as Colby stormed away, refusing to open her mind to him, or even look back over her shoulder at his weakened frame. He was no stranger to an act of passion or anger, but Colby demonstrated something more.

It was nothing less than an act of pure hatred.

The subject wasn't brought up again for the day, but Colby never seemed to forget it. Her hackles were raised whenever Rafael drew near, and her eyes would follow him until he would depart from sight. Neither spoke, nor glanced much at one another, but it was obvious to all that something be a-miss.

"Colby," Paul finally breached the sound barrier. He found Colby in the stable with one of her favorite horses, gently rubbing away at its mane. He shuffled into the stall awkward, pausing to give good ol' Suzie the horse a pat. The mare accepted it with a small snort and went ahead to give a little prance in place.

"Paul, can't you see I'm trying to work the knots out of her mane?" Colby shot him a look and swiped the brush through the length of mane. She was surly and lashing out at anyone, and all it took was one look from Paul to make the guilt strike her.

"Knots? At this rate you'll be brushing a bald horse, Colby." Paul whistled softly, and patted the mare down. "I don't know about you, but I don't think Suzie would appreciate having to sacrifice her hair just so you can hide all damn day."

"Watch your mouth," Colby shot him a disapproving look, but she stepped away from the mare. "I'm going to have to have a talk with Juan about his language, I see. You know better than that, Paul. You want Ginny picking up on that? Talking like a sailor?"

"You're pathetic at changing topics," Paul sighed.

Colby winced, pathetically. "That noticeable?" She asked over her shoulder while she hung up her tack.

"It's about as subtle as Rafael when he wants me and Ginny to go to bed," Paul chuckled, but stopped when Colby didn't join in the usual joint effort of ragging on Rafael. A worried cloud fell over him and Paul moved closer. "Colby, something's bothering you, ain't it?"

"No," She shook her head, trying to sum up something. "There's nothing. I've just been distracted. That's all."

"If you call lying distracted, then sure," Paul cut right to the point with a tap on her head. He never failed to use his new height against her. "You're not talking to one of Rafael's brothers, Colby. Or even one of our uncles. It's me, y'know? Just who do you think I am?"

"Don't you start on me too. I don't need it right now," She smacked his hand away, but froze, when Paul grabbed it out of the air.

Paul held her hands like a man, and for the first time, Colby became aware of the sudden differences the years had brought him. He was taller, and no longer an awkward ball of a teen, but an evolving boy. "Colby, I might not be strong like Rafael or even a good fighter, but you know I'm on your side. Can't you trust me enough to tell me what's bothering you?"

Where had her little brother gone? Colby gazed at Paul, looking almost lost as time stole away from her one more person.

"Oh, Paul," She choked on her own words and without warning wrapped him into a tight hug. "It's just so much...I...I don't know. I wish we were back on the farm. Just me and you and Ginny. I wish things were simple again with Mom and Dad."

"Life's never simple, Colby," Paul held her tightly, tilting his hat to hide the shock in his eyes or the prideful blush on his face. "What would Dad say right now if he was seeing you like this? Eh? He'd shake his head, Colby and tell you 'that if wishes were like fishes then a starving man would never be hungry'."

Colby sniffed, and wiped her eyes on her hands, smearing the unshed tears from her eyes. She chuckled, recalling that very line from her father's vocabulary. He loved to say it every time Colby struggled to complete her chores or would wish for things to be a bit easier. She loved him, and looking back she could feel his love for her.

He was her real father. He was a man she loved dearly and no stranger could take that place. She would much rather hang herself than watch something like that happen. She would take a gun to her skull than allow that to happen.

"He'd give my fanny a good romping for being such a cry baby. He'd tell me to stop being so afraid and do something."

"Colby? Afraid? Nah," Paul swatted her on the shoulder. "There's no such thing, Colby. Stop talkin' excuses. There ain't no such thing as you being afraid. What's there to be afraid of?"

So much, Colby figured, but she held her tongue. She wrung her hands in front of her. Paul let out a soft breath.

"This is about Rafael inviting your father, sister, and our uncle here," Paul tilted his head when Colby flinched. "It is, isn't it Colby? Is that why you're so afraid?"

"I'm not afraid!" Colby wiped sweat from her brow and tried to look fierce. Paul only shook his head at her antics. Deflated, she could only slump and drop to sit on a pile of hay. "Damn it, Paul, I'm not afraid. I-I just don't like Rafael poking around in my business. We're doing fine on our own, right? Why do we need to know strangers like them anyway?"

"They're family, Colby."

"They're _nobody_," Colby's voice drenched itself in venom, and Paul jumped in surprise. "Don't you see, Paul? They're not our family! Where were they when you had the measles? Where were they when Ginny broke her arm? When I had a fever? Or when Mom was hurting? Where were any of them? I don't need a sister, or a father, and we don't need any more uncles. We have each other, isn't that good enough, Paul? Isn't it?"

An awkward, pregnant silence fell over them. It was so loud and roaring, that neither brother nor sister could look at one another. Colby wrung her hands, and kicked a bit of straw. Sweat had fallen over her shoulders, and her distressed eyes only served to look that much larger. Inside she felt so helpless and angry, but on the outside she had some kind of control.

"Colby!"

Puffing, coughing and sputtering, Ginny burst into the stall, grabbing at the doorway to keep herself steady before she skidded into a wall. Her hair bounced around her as she smiled, completely unaware of the growing tension of the barn. "They're here. Two men and a woman! She has red hair too! Come see, Colby, some see!"

Colby tensed, her whole body shaking as if someone had set herself a flame. "Not right now. I got to get Suzie out moving."

Ginny pouted, "But Suzie can wait an hour or two, can't she Colby?"

" I don't think I raised you to put off your chores just because we have guests," Colby grabbed the horse's reigns and shot her younger sister a sharp look. Her insides quivered, and a shot of guilt went through her when Ginny looked away.

"Aw, Ginny," Colby sighed, and stroked her little sister's cheek. "Don't get me wrong, I love having guests...but...I...I have to take care of Suzie, too."

"I'll take her out!" Ginny reached for the reigns. "I wanted to go riding today so it won't bother me any."

"No, no, no," Colby held it out of her reach. "I'm just going to walk her. No riding for you today. I know what you're planning and absolutely not. Juan's been telling me about your little jumps. Maybe when he's watching you, Ginny, but not by yourself."

Her sister's cheeks puffed out and she muttered a protest, "But I can take care of myself."

"Of course, you can," Colby sighed and tried to move passed her. "But not tonight, squirt..."

Helpless, Ginny could only watch Colby leading Suzie out of the barn. Behind her, Ginny and Paul exchanged a worried look as their sister sauntered off towards the ring.

"She's going to hide, ain't she?" Ginny tilted her head in worry.

Paul ruffled Ginny's hair with a kind hand, his eyes both heavy and sad. "She'll come around, Ginny, she'll come around just you see. Now you heard Colby. No jumping. Why don't you run back to the house and check on things there? I'm going to see if I can catch our uncle. I don't know about Colby but I want to meet this guy."

Tilting his hat, Paul started back for the house, leaving Ginny behind. Slowly her eyes trailed to the unused tack hanging from the doorway. She smiled and grabbed it.

Rafael's presence reached Colby well before his hand touched the back of her waist. Colby straightened her aching back and stubbornly held the lead, taking Suzie around for another gentle walk about the ring. Her feet ached, her back ached, and everything on her ached right down to the hole in her heart. But she wasn't about to show it, or complain, or even go and tell those damned intruders to get the hell out of her home.

Nope, Colby focused on Suzie, giving her plenty of love and adoration.

"She looks well worn out," Rafael reached for the lead as Colby drew it away. "You keep that up Colby and you'll walk your horse to its grave. Now come on, stop this foolishness and let's go inside already. Paul and Ginny are getting worried."

"I'm perfectly fine and so is Suzie," Colby stubbornly took the house around again, ignoring Rafael's piercing gaze. "She likes it, don't you girl?"

The horse shot her a look that could kill, and Colby wisely did not say anything more to her.

The big Carpathian couldn't take it anymore. He rescued the horse from Colby's hands. The poor thing heaved a sigh that was probably very grateful at his intervention. "Why do you hide? Why go so far to worry all your loved ones?"

"I'm not hiding!"

"But you are!" Rafael cupped her face in his hands, gently touching her face with his fingers. "Look at you, Colby. You've never hidden away from anything before, but when faced with the chance to meet your biological father, your own sister and uncle, you shy away like a skiddish rabbit. What is it that makes you fear them so much? Colby..." He lifted her chin when she looked away. "I am your lifemate; tell me so I can understand."

"Don't you get it?" Colby's eyes lashed angrily. "I don't want them here. I raised Ginny and Paul by myself, and now that everything is going good they decide to show up saying they're my family. That's not family, Rafael. Family never abandons anyone. We've been through hell together, Ginny, Paul and I. How can I call anyone else my family?"

"What about your father's brothers? What about me? My brothers? Do you feel the same for them?"

"No!" She jumped at the protest. "Of course not. They're...its different there. With these people...I look at them and all I see is strangers. I see an uncle I always wondered about, a sister I always wanted, and a man I thought was long gone. Now they're here. How am I supposed to feel? I am scared, perhaps, and very angry."

"Time works in a funny way like that," Rafael tried to sooth her, his voice flowing in calm tones. "We are always early or too late, Colby. Rarely are we ever right on time. They came late. I believe the expression is 'better late than never'."

"I rather have the never part," Colby snorted, rolling her eyes before sobering. "What am I suppose to say Rafael? I won't forgive him for abandoning my mother. I can't."

So it was mostly about Razvan.

Gathering her up close, Rafael moved to take Colby into his arms, but a sudden shriek broke through the air, turning his insides downright cold. Colby's head snapped to attention, her spine going straight.

"No..." She whispered the word. Her eyes snapped across the acreage towards the corral reserved for jumping. "She wouldn't..."

Rafael had already dropped Suzie's reigns and was jumping the fence as Juan tore around the side of the barn, pale as can be, his eyes wide. Colby swung herself over the fence and over took the two men easily, her small frame pumping out pure adrenaline as she jumped, dodged, and practically flew towards the corral, all the while cursing under her breath.

"Ginny, oh please don't tell me she did this. Please tell me she listened to me. She didn't do something stupid—Ack!" Colby cursed, and swung towards the gate, nearly slamming into an older gentleman with thinning hair. His eyes flew wide and he grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

"Colby?" His voice had an intelligent calm air, but Colby caught the small accent that coated her mother's own words. For a second she was frozen in time as she gazed into his eyes. A simple spark hung there, something so familiar that it opened a kind of dull ache in her heart.

He could see it, and she knew it. The two of them could feel her mother flowing between them. Virginia Jansen was not dead as the two of them stared the other down. Him, a man quickly aging, and her, a daughter, stunned by the sudden feeling of familiarity. Here Colby had assumed that the two of them would share an awkward moment. She had thought him to be some kind of awkward man, but instead she stunned by the intelligent, but compassionate gleam in the older man's eyes. The same tilt of his lips when he smiled brought Colby's heart to her knees. He looked so much like her mother that it hurt. It hurt a lot...

"Gary!"

A woman, just a bit taller than Colby swung the gate open, her copper hair flouncing behind her as she moved to dash out only to stop, completely stunned by Colby's presence. It didn't take much for Colby to both recognize and acknowledge the girl for who she was. The two of them held the same eyes; the kind that looked far deeper than they actually were.

This was Lara...Colby's sister.

"Colby..." Lara glanced to Gary, then to Rafael as he approached. Licking her lips, she slowly moved closer, her lips twitching into a timid smile. "Um...Hi..."

Colby's mouth opened, but she didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. She didn't take the hand Lara offered her, nor did she move towards her. It was an awkwardness that stemmed through them. Here they looked similar, but the two of them were strangers. Sisters brought up on a whole other side of the world.

"Ginny?" Rafael broke through the awkwardness, pushing between the two girls; one hand falling to Colby's to give her fingers a gentle squeeze. "We heard her scream."

Lara's head snapped back as she came back to reality.

"Yeah...yeah she...she fell off her horse," Lara stumbled for a few moments, her brain fried as she kept stealing a look at Colby, almost as if Lara couldn't believe her eyes. Colby couldn't blame her. She felt the same way at times. Gesturing wildly, towards the gate, Lara led the way inside. "I think she might have broke something, but Father is sitting with her right now—"

"He's what?"

Colby shouldered passed Lara, only to stop in her tracks as she caught sight of the last thing she thought she'd ever see.

In her mind she always saw her father as a man without a heart. She thought of him as a faceless person who would never come back into her life. At times she thought him a drunkard, or a druggie, someone that she was better off not having in her life. He was mean, abusive, whatever Colby's mind could create so that she wouldn't worry about some nameless, faceless man who didn't matter.

But now he had a face. He even had a name...Razvan.

In the middle of the corral, Razvan knelt among the dirt and grim looking like a dark avenger even in the pale light of the moon. His arms encircled Ginny as she withered and whimpered there with her head against his chest. In size alone, he dwarfed that small child. His arms alone could probably crush her in an instant, yet he held her so tenderly that Colby lost all breath in her lungs.

"Shh," Razvan cradled the small girl, his fingers trailing along her swelling ankle, already working on removing the pain from her mind. The girl sniffled dramatically and wiped at her eyes, her jaw tightly set as she fought against everything to keep some dignity. His eyes warmed over with her stubbornness, making his lips quirk to a smile. "All is well, little one. All is well now. Tell me where the pain is, little one so that I can make it better."

So young, so small...and so much like his own children. Razvan fought the guilt, and spared nothing for it. The past was the past, and all he could do was work for the future.

"M'ankle," Ginny whimpered, and tried to move only for the pain to snap back into her mind.

"Don't move," Razvan gently laid her against his knee while he worked to remove her riding boot with extra tenderness. Inflicting any more pain upon her seemed far too cruel for him. "You'll make it worse. Let me see if it's broken."

"Broken?" A spark of fear trembled in her voice, and a roll of tears started again. She bit at her hands, whimpering. "Oh please, don't tell Colby I was riding, please, sir. Don't tell."

Afraid of punishment? Razvan could have laughed at the foolishness, but the way the girl's eyes trembled told him that laughing was the very last thing he should be doing. Disappointment obviously meant more to this girl than any kind of pain. Vaguely, Razvan wondered if his own daughter...if Colby was the same way. Did she value honor over pain? Did she fear failure over survival?

So many questions filtered into his mind, until he felt as if his chest would break from it all. Here he was so curious about his own daughter, yet...he feared greeting her.

"I promise," Razvan smiled, and touched his lips with his fingers. Leaning close to the girl, he wiped a few stray tears from her face. "I won't say a word to Colby. I give you my word, little one."

Ginny managed a shaky smile as a shadow fell over them. "Ginny?"

"Colby!" Ginny froze, fear flashing in her eyes. "I-I...I didn't mean for anything to happen honest! I-it was a quick lap, then Bronco got scared and I pulled too hard—I'm so sorry Colby!"

Red hair, and kind eyes, Razvan froze. He swore he could see Lara in her, but the set of her face brought back a hazy, hazy memory of a familiar woman. Anger flashed in Colby's eyes, and Razvan was sure she would strike the young girl. But he no sooner opened his mouth to protest than Colby throw her arms around Ginny and clutch her tightly to her chest. The anger faded from her eyes, and everything warm and good swelled before him almost as if it were spilling from Colby's very being.

Love. Happiness. Worry. Colby glowed it all.

"You idiot! You dolt! I told you no!" Colby pulled back, cupping the young girl's face only to kiss each side of it quickly and harshly. "You could have died! What the hell were you thinking? You think I want to bury you? You think I want to come out here and find your neck broken? God damn it, Ginny, you idiot!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ginny wailed her promise, but there was no anger in Colby's words: just the ache of relief. "I won't do it again, I promise."

"You better not," Colby swore up and down. "I'll wring your little neck."

"I love you too, Colby," Ginny wiped at her eyes.

The edge of Colby's face softened and she kissed her sister one more time on the forehead. "God, I love you, Ginny. But don't you ever do something like this again. I don't want to be the first Carpathian to die of a heart attack."

The two of them cuddled and clung together as Razvan cared for the ankle. His healing wasn't the greatest, but then again Ginny's ankle wasn't broken, just twisted. He mended the muscle and relaxed the tissue until the pain was gone. All the while, he could be sure that Colby's eyes trailed his every movement. Neither said a word to one another until Ginny was lifted away by Gary and Juan with Lara trailing behind to help round up Ginny's horse. Rafael slipped after her to help her clean the horse up properly.

And suddenly there was just two.

Colby looked to Razvan.

Razvan looked to her.

And yet neither could say a damned thing.

The silence droned on until with a bitter sigh, Colby took the first step. She slowly nodded in his direction, her hand touching the brim of her dusty hat.

"I suppose I owe you a thank you for that," Colby spoke quietly, picking her words carefully. She did not want a friendship with Razvan, but at the same time she found it difficult to pretend she hated him after seeing how gentle he was with Ginny. No bad guy could be that kind. "So thanks a lot."

Whatever he expected from her, it wasn't that. He looked shocked and blinked, before inclining his head back to her. "It's the least I could do for you, Colby."

"All the same, I appreciate it." Colby's words were slightly dead, but Razvan didn't seem to mind.

He looked out in the direction the others had taken Ginny. "She's a great child. Very adventurous...hates authority."

"She has a stubborn streak a mile wide," Colby eyed him closely, picking her next words carefully. "Ma use to say that it was better to cling and gnaw like a dog to a bone than to whimper and hide like a coward."

"Did she now?" Razvan said. "Virginia never struck me as the stubborn kind."

"She was," Colby struck the words out without hesitation. "She was damned stubborn and good at it too."

"...She's dead," Razvan summed up the implying message, his eyes whirling around at Colby. Those eyes nearly frightened her, but the sadness in them didn't strike as much fear as Colby had expected.

"Died years ago," Colby shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal. "Just been me, Ginny, Paul, and the farm up until Rafael found us. Just us living out on our own."

"Colby...." He offered his weakness, his tone just soft for her. To think of her alone caring for a young brother and sister...he couldn't imagine it. Razvan could barely care for himself at times. "If I knew I would have done something."

"I wouldn't have let you," Colby's spine stiffened, throwing off his sympathy with an impassive stare. "I'm not here to be your daughter, Razvan. If you came here expecting me to hug you and weep like some estrange daughter, then you've come to the wrong place. In all truth, I don't want you here. I don't need you here. I have a father. He was a good man that raised me well and like his own blood. As far as I am concerned that man is my father, and you're nothing but a stranger to me."

As hurtful as the words were, and they were sharp with pain, Razvan nodded his head slowly, expecting nothing less from her. "I understand Colby."

"Do you?" She challenged. "Do you really? Because I sure as hell don't. All this time I pictured you as a blood thirsty, greedy man...but then I find you holding and cradling my baby sister. I don't know what to think Razvan. I just don't know."

He looked to her and held her gaze. "Since I cannot be your father...then please...Colby, think of me as a friend."

Her red headed hair bobbed slowly as she nodded quickly. "I suppose there isn't any harm in that. But there are responsibilities to that..."

Now that got him. He blinked, and his eyes snapped to hers. "Responsibility?"

"Of course," She fingered her hand slowly. "Friends always stay for dinner...and friends learn to eat all the dessert without complaint."

Somehow...Razvan didn't like the sound of that.

Colby's eyes flashed, and Razvan saw his reflection in them. "Paul's in charge of dessert tonight. Did you really think I was going to just let you be my friend like that? Maybe if you survive his pie we'll talk friendship, Razvan..."

They weren't a family, they weren't friends, but Colby figured there was no excuse for not having some kind of middleground.


	17. Vengeance

**Title: **Music of the Heart

**Theme: **Vengeance

**Rating: PG-13**

**Pairings: **Desari & Julian, Dayan & Corrine, Darius & Tempest, Barack & Syndil

**Summary: **Too long had she been silenced, too long has she hidden the song in her veins. But watching her lifemate flaunt what was rightfully hers suddenly awoken the thrum of the music and out she screamed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Syndil crinkled her nose in disgust but did not seek to pluck the offending garment from her lifemate's shoulder. Barack continued swaying across the stage, laughing, winking and smiling as if he wasn't being turned into a human underwear rack. He looked like a god; dancing, flying, but just as foolish as the number of undergarments began to add up.

The Dark Troubadours played the crowd for the first time since the group had disbanded but a few years prior. Back then; it had only been the few of them playing, but now the band had grew in numbers and finally decided to come together to raise money for orphanages all across Europe.

Darius joined them upon the stage beside Desari, the two of them blending their vocals into a single harmonious song. His lifemate, Tempest stood just beyond the curtain swaying to the song, a single hand resting upon her swelling belly.

Dayan drove the drums like a soaring storm while his loving family joined him in song. Corrine's fingers worked like magic upon her guitar, while young Jennifer toddled in her father's lap. Even with the young child's presence, Dayan didn't miss a single beat.

Desari swayed to the music, her body enticing the men to draw near, while Julian fended them off with his powerful arms encircling her. The two moved together in a single unit, but Desari never took her hand from the microphone, or her eyes from Julian's. In this world of music, Desari was in her own land.

But it was Barack that drove the crowd to a frenzy. He played the song, but his fingers and feet drove them closer. It was his voice that coaxed the crowd to sing, to dance, and sway to the music to help it grow until everywhere in the world could hear them.

Together the Dark Troubadours were a raging smash. Everyone was so grand, so strong that the love ballads became fierce and passionate. Everyone but Syndil.

In the dark, her fingers gnashed her keyboard, hitting the keys with more force than she would have liked. Her eyes weren't on the crowd, or on the music beside her. They danced around the stage following the swaying Barack as he teased the local harpies into frenzy. The women clawed at his leather pants, and flung colorful garments in his direction. Syndil would have expected him to leap away or at the very least pretend that he wasn't thrilled about the colorful gifts they were sending to him.

But that little twit laughed, and winked at them.

It was enough to make her want to eat her keyboard.

_What is it, Syndil?_ Desari's voice reached across the stage and tickled at the back of Syndil's neck. _Your heart is screaming in anger. What is wrong? Is it because of…_

_Savon?_ Syndil could have laughed as her mind supplied the word that Desari did not dare say. Just a year before she would have left it at that. She would have blamed the cruelty she faced from Savon as the reason why her fingers were shaking against her keys. Oddly enough, it wasn't. _No, it is nothing._

Her answer was no sooner given then she felt the eyes of everyone slide towards her. She felt her brothers and sisters, new and old, gaze at her in worry. Syndil blushed and ducked her head, fighting the urge to scream.

She was never usually like this. She was a calm person She was sweet, she was kind, yet as she watched Barack flounce among the many females reaching for him, she felt something hot and dark uncoil in her belly.

_Barack… _Julian's voice carried over the air, and Syndil shot him a look of warning that could have made any other male wither on the spot. Much to her credit, Julian at least looked a bit scolded.

Barack slowed his swaying as the song came to a close and the crowd rose to their feet, storming and screaming like nothing else.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Barack chuckled, shouldering his guitar as he came close. With a clean sweep of his hand he cleared the hair from his face and shot Syndil a boyish grin. "They're in a great mood tonight."

"And I bet you're to thank for that." Syndil gnashed her teeth, tone cutting.

Barack paused and raised a brow in wonder before spreading his hands out in front of him. "What can I say, Syndil? They love me. I'm just a crowd pleaser."

Desari crept over in time to put a calming hand upon her sister's shoulder. "I'm sure they appreciate it Barack," Desari swept a gaze between them, but Syndil was much too angry to meet it. "But I think what Syndil means to do is warn you to settle before you cause a riot."

Not exactly what Syndil was after, but if it did the trick, why not? It was better than sitting around envisioning her hands wringing some pasty blonde's neck.

"Someone has to give them some eye candy," Barack sighed. "Between Dayan, Darius, and you being wedded, it's up to me to stir them wild, you know?"

"You're not exactly single yourself, Barack!" Syndil snapped.

Her tone made him stop, pausing in mid-pluck of a paper of women's boxers. "My, Syndil," He chuckled, waving the panties in her direction. "I do believe you sound jealous."

Her teeth gnashed together until they sounded like a pair of grinders hard at work. "I am _not_ jealous! You're annoying! Flaunting around on some stage like an unscrupulous gentleman!"

"Sex sells," Barack spoke bluntly. "What's the matter with that? Between everyone here, someone has to do something to boost the crowd's enjoyment."

His words seemed clear cut enough until Syndil stopped foot in air. Slowly her eyes trailed back to him. "Barack," She spoke at first pausing to collect her thoughts. "Did you just hint that I have no sex appeal?"

"Not in so many words," He denied it without a beat. "No offense, Syndil. I love you, I think you're sexy, smokin' and everything beyond, but not everyone holds my kind of taste, y'know? I figure if I can light some fires under the females I can get us an extra boost in sales for a bit. It's all for a good cause. The more money the more support for orphanages."

"I don't care if you sell all of Hungary!" Her hands tightened at her side. "I do have sex appeal."

He sighed and attempted to make her happy with a pat on the side while going for his guitar. "Of course you do, Syndil. You're sexy, hot and everything, just like I said."

So why didn't she believe him?

Barack and Desari wandered back to gear up for the next song, leaving Syndil to take in account her assets. She was leggy, tall, and pretty, she supposed, but she wasn't as nearly magical as Desari or as bold as Barack. In a small red flowing dress and light colored heels, Syndil barely looked desirable. She looked...safe. She looked like a woman that would soberly drive her date home after a wild party.

And while she looked perfectly safe like a kitten, Barack looked sexy...dangerous and he flaunted it out onto the stage. The women went wild and grabbed his legs, making him laugh and tease them.

A single hand climbed too high, and Barack jumped, suddenly taking a step back as shock came into his features. He laughed and waved it off like it was nothing...but Syndil saw it...Well, as much of it as possibly before her eyes went red.

No sex appeal...

No confidence...

Syndil snarled, and knocked over her keyboard.

Her hand shot out, grabbing the microphone away from Desari, making her sister squawk out her last note. The song died away in a river of ruckus as one by one all of her bandmates came to a halt. Dayan froze mid-beat, Corrine held a single note, and Tempest waved her arms wildly wondering if she should shut off the microphone or simply let the impromptu show continue.

"Hey! What the hell?" One of the women in the front row, threw a water bottle at the stage, frustration clouding her sharp features. "I paid to see a show! What the hell are you doing?"

"We want music!" Another screamed.

A dull chant took up over the crowd. "Music, music, music!"

"Syndil…" Confusion swept over Barack's face.

Syndil tossed her shoulder in his direction and faced the crowd head on. Their anger coiled making them appear like a pit full of vipers. Jewelry clinked, arms waves, and people screamed. For but one second, Syndil pondered this as a mistake; a terrible, terrible mistake. The insides of her legs felt like jelly and she nearly collapsed from it all.

Just how long had it been since she had taken the stage like this? Syndil tried to recall the moment, but her mind was hazy. It felt like centuries since she had last felt the weight of the microphone in her finger tips, and even longer since she felt the thrill of the music building in her chest, yet there it was. It built up with each insult; each flailing fist thrown at her, and it was only fuels more by the lustful stares directed in Barack's direction.

Poor boring Syndil.

She would always be in the dark. No sex appeal, nothing. She was sweet, kind, but she would never fight for her man.

Poor...boring..._safe_, Syndil. She would always be the safer female, never adventurous, never as passionate as the women that could flaunt what they had. What she had, what she owned, what her body was added up to nothing but soiled goods. She was ruined, and it killed her.

As the silence lengthened, Syndil knew she would never have the same flair that Barack could flaunt so easily. She could never be so brave, but she did have something that she could show the world and not be ashamed.

Her love.

Syndil opened the door that she kept hidden away in her heart since the time Savon had lost himself to the darkness. The door was hidden so far deep that she had forgotten that it even existed. Her mind grabbed her siblings, and stretched through them until she was touching Corrine and Julian's. With them she shared the music within her.

The steady beat of her heart became the beat of Dayan's drums, the tremble of her breath became Corrine's harmony, and the throbbing of the blood in her veins became the notes for Desari and Julian. Syndil's heart sang to them, and slowly they built a reaction until they were all linked, all sharing, and all feeling. Barack's mind stayed empty with only a silent command between him and his lifemate.

_Watch me._ She looked him in the eye, her lips coming to kiss the tip of the microphone. _Watch and see what I can do Barack._

The crowd was stunned. The silent Syndil, the one who had more or less abandoned the band took to the stage without failure. Her voice was nowhere near as invoking as Desari's, but the fire in her eyes broke through with passion until everyone was stunned to silence to the words she gave them.

"_If I could give you the world, I would._

_If I could give you the sky, I would._

_If, for just a moment, I could be the home you need_

_Baby I'd be there. I'd be there..."_

Beneath the words, Syndil called up the happy moments. Savon's laughter, the kindness in his hands as he taught her the way to spin her emotions to the earth without losing herself, the way Darius would laugh when things were too bleak for words, the adventure of new lands. Syndil called up the happiness of her family. In her mind and heart she built it to words, and like a magical change, Syndil bloomed on the stage.

"_If I could be perfect, I would._

_I'd be everything you ever wanted._

_Everything you ever needed._

_If, for just a moment I could be,_

_Baby I'd be there. I'd be there."_

But she wasn't perfect. Syndil swayed to the song, her voice trembling to an awkward hum.

If she was perfect she wouldn't be on that stage. She wouldn't be holding the microphone. She'd be dancing at her keyboard, Savon would be singing with Darius in the crowd, and Syndil would be free of any insecurities. Barack could live the happy life he wanted instead of held down by a woman like her.

"_If I could only be,"_ When the words failed her, Desari stood strong beside her sister, one hand sliding into Julian's. Her eyes flickered to him. "_Baby I'd be there."_

"_For a moment," _Julian smiled. _"Baby I'd be there."_

"_Let me take your pain, let me take it all away._

_If I could make you smile for just a moment_

_If I could touch the sky I would say_

_Baby I'd be there. I'd be there."_

Corrine swayed to the front of the stage her eyes dotted with tears unshed. "_I'd be the home you ever needed, the one where you'd belong."_

Dayan kissed her from afar with his eyes, his eyes never once straying. _"I'd be the ground beneath your feet, the one that keeps you strong._

"_I'd be there,"_ Darius looked off stage, his eyes sparkling. _"I'd be the right to your wrong, the beat to your song."_

The love was there. In the stage, in the air. It melted through them and through her the most. Syndil smiled and basked in it. It wasn't until she opened her mouth that she found that her song that she sang was no longer _her_ song.

It was all of theirs and what a beautiful song it was.

"_I'd be there if for but a moment," _Syndil trembled, her eyes looking at all the love around her. _"I'd be there, Baby!"_

Hands splayed across her waist, pulling her trembling body back against a hard chest. Barack's head loomed over her shoulders, engulfing her body so easily. His heart beat in her ears, and he bowed her head to breathe against her neck.

"_I'd be the dove upon your shoulder, the whisper in your ear. _

_I'd be the cane to your side, the never-ending guide._

_I'd be there, Baby, I'd be there."_

Barack's song joined the familys, his arms supporting Syndil until the very end. Tired, drained, but somehow still smiling, they all looked to their loved ones as if they had touched a miracle. The crowd's roars broke the sound barrier and rattled the windows.

But Barack wouldn't be undone.

Under the very eyes of the women who clawed for him, he swung Syndil around and crushed his lips to hers.

"My woman," He breathed, his tongue snaking out to caress her bottom lip. "My sexy –"

"Boring," She supplied with a soft whisper.

"Smokin'."

"Safe."

Barack's eyes warmed. "Lovable."

"Smitten," Syndil nipped his nose. "Woman."

Barack chuckled, taking his lifemate from the stage and from prying eyes. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."


	18. Surprise

**Title:** A Moment of Weakness

**Theme:** Surprise

**Pairing(s): **Darius & Tempest

**Summary: **Everyone loves men who can take charge and make decisions. But y'know there's always an exception to every rule and unfortunately, Tempest just happens to be one of them.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"I'm…sorry," Darius' words fell on hollow ears, but he did what he could to right the wrong he had caused. "I know what I say is little consolation, but what happened has happened, Tempest. I never meant to hurt you."

His words were like blades, driving deeper her realizations. Tempest shoved his hands away, trying to keep a space between them. Her red hair fell about her, shielding her face with shadows, but it was plain to see the angry rise and fall of her chest against the fabric of her overalls that she stubbornly insisted upon wearing even as her stomach strained the fabric to its breaking point.

"It's too late to fix it," Tempest yanked at her hair, pacing the room frantically, while petting her stomach. With each step, her anger grew at everything she saw. But she kept biting her lips, holding back her outburst but just barely.

Slowly, Darius reached for her again, his fingers coming close, but falling short of his goal.

"Don't touch me," She hissed, jerking back as if he had burned her. "Just don't touch me, Darius. Just don't you touch me. I don't want you near me, I don't want you looking at me, I don't even want you breathing on me!"

"Baby, please." He could only open his hands out to her, his eyes pleading with her. "Think about this rationally before you do something we'll both regret."

"You mean _you'll_ regret."

"Is that a threat?"

She scoffed at his quirked eyebrow and settled a glare upon him. "Oh, don't you mock me with that big bad look, Darius. It's a promise and you damn well know it."

He could have laughed at her. He should have laughed at her. But the angry gaze warned him not to. Not when his baby was nestled so tightly in her womb. "Tempest, this is nonsense. Now sit down before you hurt yourself. Francesca said you should be using this time to rest not work yourself up into frenzy over something so trivial."

"Trivial?" The moment the words echoed back at him, Darius knew he had messed up. "You think _this is trivial?"_

Tempest threw her head back and screamed. Darius jumped at the sudden uncharacteristic motion and barely had time to jump out of the way as a pillow was hurled at his head. He ducked, and let it crash into a lamp. But Tempest wasn't done. With her swollen belly and terrible balance, she moved pretty quickly. She snatched up pillow after pillow, hurling it at him, leaving Darius with no choice but to keep dodging and before long had to take cover behind a package of diapers.

"Tempest, baby, be reasonable!"

"Like hell!" Tempest hurled a shoe at him, nearly clipping his head in the process. "You cheating, jerk! Lifemate, my ass! How dare you go behind my back and do something so…so…so _hurtful!_"

She should have just slapped him or kicked him. Just that one word from her was like a stake through his heart. Darius doubled over, his face softening as he reached for her. "Baby, please. I never meant to hurt you. Not for a single second was I thinking of hurting you."

"You weren't even thinking of me while you did it, did you?" Tempest's soft voice shook slightly before she turned away, raising a hand to cover her eyes. "I trusted you, Darius. I trusted you."

She threw her hands to the air. Her fingers stretched out wide to each wall and ceiling as she turned around. "Look! Just look, Darius!" Her hands dropped to her swollen stomach and Tempest gave it a shake. "I'm about to pop and you go and do something like this?"

Darius growled and tossed aside the diapers, making it land in a pile of other baby gifts that the two of them were putting off on opening. He snatched her wrists up, pulling them away from her stomach. "Tempest, please—"

"Don't touch me!" Tempest jerked her hands free and with her eyes flashing. "Your hands are dirty, Darius. I'll never forget this, never."

Red heads were not named just for their hair color. Their eyes always seemed to flash a demonic red just before they did something terrible. Darius saw the flash, but his lfiemate's foot was quicker. He doubled over and Tempest took that opportunity to walk away, her swollen ankles being the last thing Darius saw of her as he crumpled along the wet wall, streaking red paint up over his back.

"Ouch," Dayan materialized slowly, once it was safe to do so. He whistled long and low, shaking his head in sympathy at his friend's pain. "And I thought red was a nice touch. I especially liked the pink bunnies you added along the ceiling. That's all by hand isn't it?"

Darius nodded slowly, hissing between his teeth.

"Nice, real cute, Darius," Dayan grinned. "What'd she have to say about it?"

Darius hung his head, and gave himself a little pat just to make sure all his pieces were more or less in the right place. The last thing he wanted to do was go to his older brother and have to explain this one to him.

"She wanted blue."


	19. Fairy Tales

**Title:** Knight in Shining Armor

**Theme:** Fairy Tales

**Pariring(s):** Falcon & Sara (mentioned)

**Summary:** Fairy tales don't always exist and when we learn that, sometimes we forget to see the fairy tales that do.

**EDITED: Because for some reason, it went all bold! Darn it.**

**Also: Starting to hit a block in my writing so if there's any ideas people would like to suggest, it would be loved.  
**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"And the prince and the princess lived happy ever after," Falcon finished. "The end."

"That was a good story," Four year old Emma murmured quietly through sleepy eyes. Her head steadily grew heavier on her pillow until she could do nothing but slump against it. Like a little warrior she fought sleep bravely, but like every fight, it could not go on forever. But that never stopped her from trying. "Could you read it again, Falcon? One more time from the start?"

"Tomorrow," He promised, pulling her thick comforter over her shoulders and smoothing it over her. "Right now, the sun's gone to bed. Tomorrow night, I'll read you another story. One about a little mermaid."

"With a prince?" She looked at him expectantly. "I like the stories with a prince or knight. Knight's are good."

With that kind of look, Falcon chuckled, he'd make damn sure there was one. "Of course. Who else will save the day?"

"Mm," Emma nodded.

"Good night, Emma."

His words went unanswered, but Falcon didn't mind. He brushed his lips against her small forehead before leaving the room, pausing only to shut off the light, leaving the small glow of a star nightlight shining through the darkness. The sounds of Emma's gentle breathing warmed his chest. The rest of the children had gone to sleep much the same way. Travis had sat there insisting to have Falcon give a quick story of one of Sir Lancelot's adventures. Jase had demanded Whinny the Pooh, Blyth had been content with one involving dwarfs and Emma had gotten the tale of Cinderella.

That left one last room for him to check in on before he could retire to his lifemate's waiting arms.

The last room at the end of the hallway belonged to the eldest girl, Chrissy. She never posed many problems and only required for Falcon to enter, check the lock on her window as he did with all the children, and then shut the door behind him. But as he approached the door that was normally closed, he found it cracked open.

Falcon smelled the tears before he even came close to the door. The sobs came to him the moment he stepped within a foot of the doorway and stopped when the floor gave way his position. He froze in place, his ears perking at the smallest noise. Slow breathing from all the rooms drifted over the evening air. A leaky faucet in the kitchen continued to drip and downstairs one of the nannies was snoring away with her television playing a rerun of another _Star Trek_ episode, but Falcon caught no wind of sobs.

"Chrissy?" Gently he prodded the door.

Light spilled in around him, marking a path to the foot of his adopted daughter's bed. Even without the light, he could make out her cowering form, pinned helplessly against her wall like an unborn child vying for its parent's warmth. Falcon lingered in the doorway for a few more moments, but when she gave no answer he stepped back, reaching to shut the door behind him.

"Why'd you lie?"

Falcon stopped in his tracks, tilting his head towards the shadows. The young girl sat up in bed, her hair flowing down around her tearstains face all while she awaited an answer to her question. Falcon took a moment to consider the question, weighing it over his heart and mind.

"I suppose I lie to protect the people I care about," He answered truthfully. Even if he wanted to, the truth just flowed from his lips with one look at the wet track marks on her face.

Something in his answer upset her, but she didn't voice it. He watched her eyes flicker back and forth before slowly nodding her head. She knew he wasn't lying and appreciated that. Falcon watched the conflict for a moment. "But why the question? It's not like you to be up this late."

"I heard you telling Emma a story," She admitted softly, almost reluctantly.

"If you wanted a story all you have to do is ask."

"You lied to her," Chrissy cut him off directly.

"I don't see how," The bed dipped dangerously low as Falcon took a seat on it. Had his lifemate been present, she would have been having a field day with how he had made himself comfortable on a small pink bed barely even half his size. "I read the story she wanted the way that the book had it written."

She looked away, and Falcon reached out to touch her chin. "Tell me, why does that bother you?"

Her shoulders hunched inwards and Chrissy seemed to recoil from his touch. The tip of her nose twitched as she rubbed it, leaving it red and swollen; the proof of her tears.

"Because it's not true, that's not how it is," Chrissy whispered. Her eyes flickered darkly, looking up at Falcon. Those eyes were so dark that Falcon faltered for a moment under her gaze. Instead of bright eyes of a naïve child, he saw the eyes of a hollowed warrior, one who had seen much more strive than most see in their lives. "There's no such thing as a Knight or a Prince or anything. They're not real."

Falcon's brows furrowed together as Chrissy's eyes dropped to the bedsheet, tracing the small colorful designs. "You don't have to lie to me, Falcon. I know they don't exist. Evil exists, but I know better than to wait for someone to save me. You shouldn't let Emma think that all her problems with be fixed like that."

"She's just a child," Falcon pointed out, leaving any accusations from his voice. Gently he touched her shoulder. "And so are you, Chrissy."

She shrugged his hand off coldly, looking away.

In all the time she had lived with them, Falcon had always seen a happy child. A girl willing to help and care for her siblings, with a small mischievous gleam when it came to teasing Travis, that's what he saw. But now he was seeing what shadows laid behind that bright persona.

"She'll be disappointed."

"Like you were?" Falcon hedged to the root of the problem, watching the way his adopted daughter stiffened at the words. He touched her mind gently, seeking an answer when she didn't supply one, only to find her mind a chaotic mess.

"Yes." Hers hands fisted her the sheets, and she whimpered. Chrissy was sensitive in her mind, and Falcon could feel her instant shame the moment he began to share her mind with her.

Images came and went quickly as if she were trying to pluck them where he couldn't see, but Falcon was quicker. There was a small house, not even half the size of the home she now shared with so many. A gentle wrinkled hand stroking her face, providing warmth while the other weak hand carefully turned the pages of a tattered book.

He recognized the stories instantly. He had spent many nights reading them to Emma; _the Little Mermaid,__Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, Cinderella,_ and so many others. He felt the joy when the old woman read, seeing it all through Chrissy's eyes. The old woman's voice was hoarse, sickly, but wove a magical imagery that Chrissy's hungry tummy loved.

Chrissy whimpered, and Falcon withdrew in time to catch her wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. "She read to me all the time even when she wasn't feeling well she read to me."

The girl fisted her hands at her eyes, stubbornly trying to turn away as the tears welted up. "It's stupid. Just go away, Falcon. Just go."

A lesser man would have left, but Falcon was far more than that. He had walked the shadows of darkness and seen evil, but most of all he knew pain. He knew the pain of disappointment, of having your faith crushed and so he stayed. He ignored her protests, his own heart aching for the child. _She is mine_, was what his mind whispered,_Mine to protect._

"It is not stupid," He gathered her into his lap, his arms finding her small form even smaller than he had realized. All this time, he had spent with the children, Chrissy had always been stronger. She had always been the oldest female, always in charge of the younger ones. Yet, even knowing that, Falcon never once thought to see what really went on in the child's mind and for that he felt guilt creeping into his face. "If you are sad, Chrissy, it doesn't matter why. You can cry in front of me and I will not think any less of you."

She bit back a small sob, burying her face into his chest until her tears streamed down his neck. "She read to me every day, every night. W-we didn't always have enough food, but she always read to me. I…I don't know if she was my grandmother or…just a lady that my parents dumped me on, but she never turned me away even though she wasn't…" Chrissy shook her head, and bit her lip.

"She said things would get better," She continued, her voice sullenly smoothing out from her jagged sobs. "But it didn't. When she got sicker, I…I read to her. I couldn't really read…but…I remembered the stories. And one night…she just never woke up again. That's why I knew it was all a lie. No kiss could fix her; no magic could bring her back because it didn't exist."

"Shh," Falcon pressed a hand to her back, reclining back onto the small bed until he had her cradled upon the bed. With gentle ease he brought her blanket to her face, wiping away the tears that fell. His own eyes watered, sharing in her pain as her disappointment, anger and sadness welled up in her tiny heart.

"It's true, isn't it, Falcon? There's no such thing as knights, but there are bad guys." She paused softly. "Sometimes they look like knights, but they're not."

She was too young to know that. Falcon frowned, his large hand coming to cup her chin. Barely even six years of age, and yet this child knew more even than some adults. He wished he could banish such thoughts, erase them from her mind, but he knew he'd only be dulling the truth that one day she'd learn.

"Sometimes," He admitted. "Sometimes, knights can be evil monsters in disguise but sometimes monsters can be knights too, Chrissy. I can't tell you that magic exists or that everything can be fixed with a simple thing such as a kiss. But it's as good as a place of any to start at."

With that said, he laid two kisses upon her. One to each of her tear stained cheeks before nuzzling her head against his. Softly, she sighed, relaxing into his touch. "Don't close your heart to the world, child," He coaxed her gently. "Even if the world is filled with monsters, I promise you that you'll always have a Knight in shining armor there to save you."

Sleep seemed to creep over her, washing back the pain in her eyes enough to bring out the soft glow of a child seeking love. Falcon smiled and eagerly gave that to her, enveloping her into his arms and holding her to him tightly. Her small arms wrapped around his neck and she returned the embrace awkwardly.

"You can't know that," She protested feebly, the last of her resolve breaking away from her.

Falcon smirked, taking one her hands in his to kiss her knuckles. "But I do, Chrissy. Until the day comes that you find the prince that will keep you save and treasure you, I will be your knight if you will allow it, milady."

Something glowed in that little girl's eyes. It was so sudden that it took Falcon a moment to realize what it was: Trust. She trusted him to keep to his word. It warmed his heart almost as much as when he had finally come upon his lifemate.

"You promise?"

Falcon nodded. "I swear it on my own life."

A smile crossed her face, and Chrissy surprised him once more. She kissed him on the nose before settling into her own bed, sighing contently.

Falcon grinned and tucked her in, carefully securing the blankets warmly around her, and taking care to touch her mind once more to ward off any bad dreams that may disturb his daughter's sleep.

"Falcon?" She looked at him, catching him before he could disappear out the door.

"Yes?"

"Do you think you can read me a fairy tale tomorrow night?"

Falcon couldn't stop his smile even if he wanted to.

"For you, milady? Anything."


	20. Dream

**Title:** Gregori's Nightmare: A sequel to Savannah's Panties.

**Theme:** Dream

**Pariring(s):** Gregori & Savannah, as well as Josef and his acorn.

**Summary:** For every fandom there is a part of society that fears for it. For poor Gregori, he just happens to come across the move hideous one in his lifetime. For there is nothing worse…than this kind of vampire…throw Josef's artistic urges and it's a miracle anyone's alive.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or any books here mentioned. This sprung from a prompt someone had kindly mentioned to me that I combined with my friend's challenge to introduce her lovely fandom into mine. Needless to say we both got a kick out of it. We got such a kick out of it, that there is another oneshot staring another couple and possibly a third if I can finish it.

-.-.-.-.-

It was early day before Gregori finally was able to sleep. He settled slowly into his dwelling, his lifemate already curled tightly away from him, and his male pride aching from yet another night of attempting to compensate for her humiliation. And yet again, it was drawn up into nothing but a failure.

He set the safeguards, checked on their children one final time, before finally allowing himself to join her in their cavern. His muscles ached from hand washing the house top to bottom. To think he had allowed himself to think humans so worthless and weak and here he was a Carpathian warrior, ancient above all else, forced almost to his knees with the tedious work. He dusted, clean, organized, until he just couldn't do it anymore. Needless to say he had developed a whole new appreciation for his skills.

_And a fear of Savannah and her undergarments._ Gregori sighed and touched his lifemate's shoulder gently before curling around her. She sighed deeply in her sleep and snuggled up against him, one hand clutching a book to her chest.

The book flopped to the ground, and Gregori peered at it closely, one brow raised in question. "_Twilight_…?"

"Edward…" Savannah sighed dreamily in her sleep, one hand pawing gently at her chest for the missing book. "Be gentle…"

Gregori's back stiffened, and he growled lowly. His eyes flashed red and without warning he snatched up the book, flipping it to the first page, his eyes determined to see just what his lifemate was reading.

The rest that happened was only a byproduct of Gregori's old curiosity and the book that caused millions of women—young and old—to fall into the fanatic state that could only be called rabid.

_And so it begins…_

"Gregori…"

Forcing his attention away from his work, Gregori drank in his lifemate's presence. Her beauty swirled around her, painting her with a playful aura that no amount of years could ever change. She smiled at him, softly, shyly like a nymph peeking out from behind the woods at a stranger. Just the sight of her smile stirred the beast in him, giving him shivers where he sat.

"Yes, _ma petite_?" She would always have his attention no matter what. The world could be ending and all he would see was her. Slowly he extended his hand to her, beckoning her near. "What brings you to my dark dwelling, my fair lady? What brings you to tempt the devil at this hour?"

She stepped out from the shadow of the doorway and Gregori's heart slammed on its brakes. He had always known his lifemate to be beautiful, but draped in a sheer garment, much too thin for anyone but him to see, Gregori swore he was staring at the body of a goddess. Her long legs stretched on for miles, and the way the cloth sculpted her thighs and cupped her breasts took years off his life.

"Gregori…" She purred his name as she stepped around his outstretched hand. Her fingers slid sensually up the sides of his face. Her lips were flushed, riped for kissing but as Gregori stretched to earn a small taste of what she had to offer, she stepped away from him, taking her head. "I'm sorry."

Confusion flashed.

"Whatever for?"

He reached for her waist, but she side stepped him again, once more shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Gregori, but I just can't. I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" Flabbergasted the Dark One rose to his feet, trailing behind his retreating nymph as she stepped backwards towards the way she had entered. "Savannah, what nonsense are you speaking of now? Come here to me."

She shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, Gregori but we can't be together. Not anymore. I'm sorry but you're not the one for me."

"What do you mean?"

She stopped right before the doorway, and stroked the threshold lovingly. "I need a man, Gregori. I need a man that can keep me cool at night, make me feel treasured and protected…"

"Savannah…" Gregori gave his warning. The beast in him rising to attention.

Through the darkness another arm wrapped around her waist, and Savannah's eyes were torn away from him. They flashed warmly as a tall figure stepped into Gregori's line of sight. Shirtless pale skin gleamed back at him, stunning him into sheer silence.

"I need a man, Gregori. I'm tired of the darkness, tired of your brooding. I need a real man…" Savannah purred the words, her hand stroking along the gleaming chest. "I need a man that _sparkles_."

Savannah's fingers reached up and cupped her new lover's face as he bent in to kiss her. Closer…and closer…until his face came into Gregori's focus.

"Josef, don't you dare!"

_A dream that renders the heart cold…_

Gregori shot out of his cavern, his heart slamming into his chest. Years of his training and his discipline had kept many dreams away. But somehow, as Gregori burst from the ground, his hand grasping at his slamming heart, he couldn't break the feeling that his brain hadn't gone to rest as it should have.

_Just a dream._ He spoke the words to himself, recalling a time so far back that he couldn't even count, that his own mother had said those words to him. He hadn't heard those words since he was a child, barely a full decade from the womb. Back then they had been soothing, but for him, the words did little to calm his nerves.

_Savannah?_ Gregori sent his call the instant he realized his lifemate was not present in their sleeping chambers.

_Gregori?_ Her response came instantly, suddenly and with a bite to it that perked his ears. Savannah sounded rushed, tired, and just a bit shocked at his sudden call. _What is wrong? Why are you in such a panic?_

Struggling to contain himself from his lifemate, he pushed aside her inquiries. _Where are you?_

Savannah hesitated. _I'm visiting Toni and Josef. Is something wrong? Gregori?_

_Stay there and do not move! And for your sake, do not touch anything that sparkles!_

_Sparkles? Gregori what's gotten into you?_

She didn't even get the luxury of a response before Gregori was tearing through the skies. His form shimmered quickly into the form of a hawk, wasting no time in gaining speed to her side. It was just a dream, that's what his mind told him, but his heart was enthralled. Within seconds, he was streaming through Byron's front door, and materializing within inches of his woman.

"Gregori!" Savannah didn't even get a chance to put her cup of tea down before Gregori engulfed her in his arms. She wiggled against him, craning his head to look over her shoulder. "Gregori, what's gotten into you? You think this is going to make me forgive you for the…_you know what_?"

"I could care less what kind of punishment you give me," Gregori held her tightly, pressing his face against her hair. He inhaled her scent, wishing to just crawl through it all day without end. "I'll scrub the toilets, change all the dirty diapers, and carry your bags when you shop. As long as I have you, _ma petite_, I can't ask for anything else. I do not want for anything."

The struggle in Savannah's eyes died. With gentleness she grazed her fingers through his hair, soothing back enough so that she could turn and peck a kiss to his forehead. "No matter how angry I get with you, Gregori," She whispered. "It'll take a lot more than my frilly panties to leave you."

_I keep you close to my heart, ma petite. Always and forever._ Gregori nipped her throat, earning a shiver from her. He could feel her desire for him, and it renewed his heart, soothing him back from his brink of frenzy.

"Hey, Savannah. You ready for this—Oh, look Gregori's here!"

Lifting his head with lazy eyes, Gregori tilted his head in greeting but froze the moment the light from the overhead lights flashed across bare skin. His heart stilled and his pupils dilated as Josef entered the room, his shirt tucked across his shoulders and his bare chest gleaming.

Yes, _gleaming_. Flashing! Sparkling!

"Sparkle…" It was the last thing Gregori said before the Dark One, in all his glory, fainted dead away.

_The true horror of what the Dark One dreams…_

Savannah shrieked, her body crumpling as Gregori's full body weight landed on her shoulders. "Gregori! What's wrong? Gregori!"

Josef halted in his tracks and looked down at the crumpled body, and Savannah's desperate attempts to rouse her husband. With each slap of her hand, Josef twitched in sympathy. Savannah might have been a small woman, but that were no doubting she could bring a full grown man to his knees with one sharp crack of her fingers.

"He okay?" Josef asked, hesitantly, wisely keep his space from Gregori. The guy was nice and all, but he was a little scary…even when passed out in the middle of the cabin Toni and Byron used when visiting. "Leave it to Gregori to make green carpeting look evil…"

"What's going on in here?" Byron made his appearance, his hand sliding along the waist of his wife as he protectively guided her through the living room. His eyes swept over the scene. "Why is Gregori passed out in the middle of my home? And why is Josef sparkling?"

"Huh?" Josef blinked, and ran a hand over his chest, looking taken back when is palm came away covered in glitter. "Oh! Well, gee, Uncle Byron I must have splashed from glitter on me while I was working on my project."

Byron stepped over Gregori, one eyebrow raised in question. Somehow he dreaded the answer…but he asked the question anyway. "What project?"

"This!"

Josef brandished his hand proudly at his uncle. "See? It's magnificent! I asked Savannah to bring me some more supplies that she had lying around."

Byron blinked.

"Josef…is that a sparkling acorn?"

_He was never the same again…_


	21. Warning

**Title:** Reading Selection

**Theme:** Warning

**Pariring(s):** Darius & Tempest

**Summary:** Darius can finally understand the torture that his older brother has endured when his loving sister-in-law decided to help his lifemate fend off boredom with a few books. Darius doesn't know which is more surprising, the character in the book…or the fact that Tempest is reading something other than a manual on cars.

**Sorry for the long, hiatus guys! I'm working on a few pieces, but I started college too so it's a bit of a stop and go fashion. I have a collection of drabbles I'm doing for Skyler and Dimitri that I plan to have up soon, but I'm hesitant on them since…well I'm not sure who will like them. But I'm aiming to hit 100 prompts in **_Dark Reflection_.

-.-.-.-

"I just don't get it!"

Darius lifted his head in regard to his lifemate. Hair wet from her evening bath, and wrapped in a heavy robe just for her comfort, she looked much too tense for a woman who had spent the better half of the night soaking away her discomfort. "Are you studying another manual again? I told you, Barack can handle the cars until you've recovered from child birth. I don't want you straining yourself."

She shot him a look that showed just how much she loved that idea. "First of all, Barack can't tell a transmission from a muffler if it came up and bit him where Syndil should kick him. Second of all, we've already discussed this. Once this baby's out, I get free reign."

"Within reason," Darius corrected without missing a beat. He rolled his shoulders, which was more like a sensual shiver, and turned his attention back to his map, plotting out the next tour the Dark Troubadours would be scheduled to attend. "Is that what is bothering you? If so, I believe that it's pretty clear now."

"Clear my—" Tempest bit her tongue and let out a slow hiss. Nope, she wasn't going to cuss. Nope, she wasn't hormonally challenged, not in the littlest bit. Her hand touched the swell of her stomach, rubbing the growing mound with a dark glare. "It is _not_ clear, but that's not what I was talking about. I was talking about the book Savannah lent me."

Darius stilled his whole body freezing. He didn't so much as take a breath as he turned his whole body to face her. "Book?" His eyes sharpened, recalling a dark warning that Gregori had sent him but a few days before. "You're reading a book?"

"Yes, Darius. I read. I don't just read car manuals for fun. Sometimes I like a good book now and then," She gave him a quelling look, but thankfully did press the matter. Somehow, she had a feeling it was going to just lead them into another argument. _Then again, an argument is the only bit of vigorous exercise he lets me do…_ She sighed. There was no winning when a woman was pregnant, was there?

Tempest gestured towards the book she held in her hand. "And since I'm stuck pregnant and doing nothing except sleeping and eating for the next few months, I asked Savannah to lend me a book. She let me borrow this series of books and she said that it would keep me busy. Something other than counting this kid's flips and spins in my womb."

He didn't like the look of it. Darius' eyes swept the cover, marking the brilliant red ribbon the crossed the front of the black cover. "_Eclipse_?" His mind tried to recall the one word Gregori had insisted all his brothers watch out for.

"its part of something called the _Twilight_ series," Tempest shrug, completely unaware of the horrified look crossing her lifemate's face. "But I just don't understand it."

She tossed the book down onto one of the couch before splaying herself across one of them. Her red hair fanned around her face in wet tendrils, while her robe opened just enough to reveal that pale skin, Darius loved to watch so closely. But at the moment, his breath was sucked into his lungs.

"Sparkling vampires," He shuddered at the much thought.

"Didn't get that either," Tempest scrunched up her nose. "But what I didn't get was this main character! She's clumsy, crazy and completely unaware of the way she attracts danger!"

All thoughts of sparkling…and shirtless vampires vanished. Darius blinked, and the corner of his lips quirked up in a smile. "Oh?"

Tempest sighed dramatically. "She gives us girls a bad name! I mean, can't she just stop getting into trouble? The girl can't spend more than five minutes alone before she's off finding trouble one way or another."

"I can't imagine a female like that," He chuckled, leaning his chin into his palm.

"She's overly emotional, irrational and never being able to just shut up and do one thing to keep from getting her throat torn out! It's like she intentionally does all she can to go out of her way to cause the hero—That's Edward—a lot of trouble!"

"The poor man," Darius winced in sympathy, his smile only growing wider.

"She's crazy!" Temptest finished with a flourish of her hands. "And he's not that better. How can he love someone like her?"

"Perhaps there's something wrong with him," He pointed out with a budding smile. "Maybe he's a sick, masochistic—"

"Lion," Tempest finished for him.

"I would have said leopard," Darius shrugged. "But a lion works just as well."

"Leopard? Why a leopard? They don't have anything to do with this series. It's all about a love sick, clumsy girl with no sense of direction—"

Tempest stopped.

And that was all Darius could take.

"Y-You!" Tempest cursed violently, throwing her arms up as she struggled to roll to her feet. Darius' laughter only grew louder as she flailed helplessly. "Don't you laugh! Stop it, Darius! Stop it right now! It's not funny. I'm not clumsy! I'm not!"

"No matter," Darius spoke, his eyes dancing with laughter. "You still have a vampire that's terribly and sickeningly in love with you."

"You better be," Tempest slowed her movements, her cheeks flushing red. Grumbling she rolled to her side and picked up another book. _Breaking Dawn_, the cover read. "For what it's worth, I'd only be going through this pregnancy for you, Darius. Anyone else and I would have gelded them on the spot."

"My manhood and I thank you for that," Darius finished one last chuckle before getting up to press a chaste kiss to her temple. Carefully he slipped the book away from her grasp and dangled it between his fingers. "But I think I'd better take a look at this clumsy, directionally challenged female and her masochistic vampire."

"Or we both could read it together," She smirked. "Y'know…_together_? It might be what we need to get rid of my pregnancy jitters."

Grinning, Darius slipped beside her on the couch, carefully supporting her weight against his chest. He chuckled, his chin brushing the crown of her head while he cracked open the book. Together the two of them spent the better part of the night reading each chapter to help wash away the coming pressure of their newborn child.

By the end of the night, it was needless to say that only one thing happened:

Tempest's fear doubled and Darius had no choice but to burn _Breaking Dawn_.


	22. Beyond the Stars

**Title: ** A Daughter's Love

**Theme: **Beyond the Stars

**Pairings: ** Dayan x Corrine

**Summary: **Just what makes a father a father? Is it the one that creates the child? Or is it the one that loves that child beyond all measure? Dayan soon has his patience tested as his daughter, Jennifer has presented with the one thing he never thought would wedge them apart: her true father.

**After a long hiatus, and fighting college this oneshot came to me as I was mourning my crashed computer. This one was something I had floating around in my head when I wondered if Dayan simply giving blood to help save Corrine and her daughter made him a father. I wondered how this dilemma would present itself once Jennifer learned the truth and this is the product. I hope you enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

The winter snow blanketed the outside and though he was warmly tucked away in his own home, Dayan could only watch with cold eyes as his lifemate and daughter huddled together under the same blanket with a small photo album shared between them. In the light casted by the warming fire, the two of them looked so happy. Corrine was glowing, her eyes filled with a strange nostalgic glow, but it was the way Jennifer's ten year old eyes greedily ate in each picture and story that truly made his heart harden.

In a blink of an eye that tiny life had blossomed into a small curious child with a never ending appetite for challenges. Her hair was long but kept swept back into two thick braids, leaving her bright eyes shining like stars.

_So much like her mother…_ Dayan gazed on, watching the scene play out just as it had for the last three days since Lisa Wentworth, Corrine's sister-in-law and best friend, had sent Jennifer an old album.

"Just for the memories," Lisa had said, but Dayan could read between the lines.

Lisa had accepted him, loved Jennifer, but her loyalty to her brother would never be forgotten. Being the only one left seemingly tied to him, she had brought the album so as to put a face to Jennifer's creation.

"And here's John right after Lisa put pickles in his milkshake," Corrine laughed, the sound yanking at Dayan's insides. It was the sound that he had only thought was reserved for him and Jennifer; A tiny sound that washed away the darkness of his soul. "He couldn't get the taste out of his mouth for weeks. He was so mad that he put a spider in Lisa's sleeping bag! They wouldn't talk to each other for days!"

Jennifer laughed, and hurriedly turned a page. "What's this one? Is that his car?"

"Yup, his first one," Corrine made a face. "It didn't run very well but John was really proud of it."

"He looks really happy," Jennifer held up the picture of the smiling man, her fingers tracing it. "He has the same dimples as me!"

Corrine looked stunned, but a smile slowly revealed itself. "Yes, you do. And the nose…and you both do that wrinkly thing when you can't figure out a problem…I never realized that before…"

Jennifer stroked the picture, looking so lovingly at it that Dayan's heart ached. "I look like him, just like Aunty Lisa says."

Corrine was silent. Her eyes trailed to the mirror hanging over the fireplace, watching Dayan as he watched them. It was a silent struggle, neither wishing to intrude upon the others thoughts and leaving much of the moment silent. She knew it wasn't fair to him, but it wasn't fair to John or Jennifer, and Dayan knew it was well. Yet the pain he was feeling was so clear in his eyes that she had to look away, burying her face into Jennifer's hair.

She owed Jennifer's life to Dayan and her own.

Yet she owed Jennifer's creation for John.

"Yes, baby."

Corrine watched the heartbreak in her lifemate's eyes. Jennifer looked up, her expression thoughtfully as she gazed back at still picture in her hands.

* * *

"That wasn't fair to you, Dayan," Corrine lowered her guitar with a pathetic sigh. Not even an hour into practice and she couldn't keep the words barred up in her heart any longer. Beside her Dayan stopped playing, his hands frozen on the guitar, but the sorrowful note of his humming in the air. "Last week, I didn't mean to make it sound so…cruel."

"It wasn't your fault," And he meant it. He looked away and made a few short notes to his music sheet. "She has a right to know where she came from and to know about her father. I don't think any less of you or her for that, Corrine."

That didn't make her feel any better or him for that matter. There was still sadness in his eyes, and though he could forgive it, Corrine's heart was stabbed every time his gaze drifted to the empty seat Jennifer occupied almost every other night. The soft purple stool had once held an imprint from where she always sat with her own guitar; a smaller model of Corrine's guitar sitting there waiting for her. Now it was as if Jennifer didn't exist.

Dayan wouldn't say it. Corrine knew it.

But Jennifer's absence was striking him right where it hurt the most. The single place that a Carpathian was vulnerable: in the heart.

"Baby," Corrine felt the tears for him. Guitar aside she reached for him, wrapping her arms around him. "If it hurts, let it out. I know you want nothing but Jennifer's happiness, but please don't forget your own."

He pressed her palm, laying his head into his warmth. "I know," He tried to assure her, but lying to his lifemate was damn near impossible. "She had a right to know Corrine, so please. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"Still," Corrine frowned. "I'll have to have a talk with her. John or not, she shouldn't be spending so much time with that album. It's just not good for her…"

"Let her," Dayan strummed a few notes, playing a soft almost melodic melody. "I know what it's like to lose your family. I was very young when I lost mine. Looking back, I realize I would give almost anything up just to be able to put a face to my mother or my father's names. There isn't a child alive that I wouldn't want to look in a mirror and be able to see their parents looking back at them."

Corrine smiled sadly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Dayan. No matter what."

And that helped sooth him.

But it didn't fill that empty seat.

* * *

"Do you think he can see me?" Jennifer's sudden question pulled Dayan out of his haze. He lifted his head to find her standing in the door way, wrapped tightly in her green pajamas and looking thoughtfully out the window.

In the last few days, Jennifer had kept herself almost non-existent. Dashing off to her room to talk to Lisa on the phone, following Corrine with her father's album in her hands, Jennifer had almost disappeared completely from Dayan's life. Her sudden appearance startled him back into reality, his eyes focusing on her face and instantly he recalled the tiny life he had first seen. Barely bigger than his hand, he had felt an urge to keep her tight and close to his heart.

"Who can see you?" Dayan tilted his head, striking a few more cords to a gentle hum.

Jennifer slunk into the room, her hands stuffed behind her back with each step. She was rocking, awkward and fidgety, making Dayan arch a brow as she finally climbed into her usual seat. She looked so much bigger than he remembered, Dayan realized. The tiny little babe he had helped bring into this world was growing faster than he realized.

"Well, Aunty Lisa gave me an album with some of…my…father's pictures," Jennifer fidgeted slightly. "And I…I wanted to know if you think he can see me…y'know…from Heaven?"

Dayan's heart twitched. The jealousy in him was there, he couldn't deny it. John Wentworth was one hell of a lucky man. Lowering the guitar, he shoved the instrument to the ground and met his daughter's—yet not his—eyes.

"I…don't know how to answer that, Jennifer," Dayan began slowly, wanting to give her the best honest truth he could. Her green eyes looked at him so trustingly, so meanfully that all he wanted to do was give her the _right_ answer; whatever that may be. He brushed the strands back from her eyes, letting him cup her chin and brush his thumbs against her cheeks.

"But I think, when you talk straight from your heart that anyone would listen," Dayan caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Look at me, Jennifer. I think your dad would be a fool not to spend every waking minute watching you grow up. Every father wants to know that their daughter is happy."

Something flickered in her eyes. Something he couldn't place. "My…father…My dad?"

Dayan cringed, feeling the air leaving his lungs as memories came back to him.

"_Daddy!" A young Jennifer leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Daddy! Look at what I can do! Look, look~!" _

_A young Jennifer pretending to strum away while Dayan played behind her. Her missing tooth face laughing as she sang an off key version of "Another Bites the Dust" just for Corrine's birthday. "Again, Daddy! Again!"_

_A tired Jennifer lying across his chest. Snuggling ever closure she sighed contently, "I love you, Daddy."_

_Dayan in all the wonders of his life, kissed his precious treasure and held her tight to him._

"_I love you to the moon and beyond the stars, Jennifer."_

Broken hearted, Dayan forced a smile and reached for his guitar. His heart ached a song, and under the eyes of the daughter he had once claimed, he strummed a few notes, humming the song playing in his heart. Jennifer sat there, perhaps wanting to ask something else, but before long she looked at him quietly and slid off to bed, leaving the empty rift to grow between her and the man she had once called, "Daddy".

* * *

"She wanted to do this," Lisa sighed, balancing her youngest babe on her hip. The little boy gurgled and clung to his mother's hair, while she swatted his hand gently. "Stop pulling Mama's hair, honey. Thank you," Looking back at Corrine the ex-model looked on sympathetically. "I'm really sorry, Corrine. If I had realized how much the album would have bothered Dayan, I never would have showed it to her."

"No," Corrine shook her head. "It's not your fault, Lisa. Dayan knows Jennifer has a right to know who her father is. He respects her and even now, he still loves her."

"I can tell," Lisa looked out over the rows of graves as Dayan helped Collin get the stroller out of the small car Collin had rented for the trip. Besides the vehicle, Jennifer sat twiddling with the bouquet of flowers she had wanted to bring. "Dayan had stopped for the flowers and didn't even hesitate smiling to tell her how beautiful they were. I can't tell what breaks my heart more, the fact that my niece is pining for my dead brothers because of me, or that a good man is suffering."

"Dayan doesn't blame you. No one does Lisa, you were just doing what all of us were too chicken to do."

But the rift hadn't gotten smaller between Dayan and Jennifer, Corrine noticed fearfully. If anything, it seemed as if Jennifer had made it bigger. Hesitantly, she wouldn't bother sitting with Dayan through her practices, but rather sitting quietly going through photos for most of the day. It made Corrine want to burn them, to make them disappear and let her have back her daughter and husband.

But Dayan always stopped her, shaking his head. "Let her," he urged.

Together everyone walked the tombstones, going for the grave Corrine and Lisa had set up for her deceased husband. John's gravestone wasn't much, but it was certainly there. It gave the two of them a place of their own to mourn but after so many years it looked weathered and neglected. Corrine looked on with guilt.

Dayan's arm slid around her shoulders. _Do not beat yourself up over it. You were busy tending to his daughter who is much more important than a hunk of stone._

His daughter? Corrine frowned; _She is as much your daughter as his. While his blood created her, your blood held her life, you raised her, caught every tear and every smile. She _is _your daughter, Dayan.._

For once her lifemate had no comment.

"Why don't we go through one at a time?" Lisa suggested. "Each of us take a turn to say something…Um…Well those that want to," She quickly added once she realized that Dayan and Collin wouldn't know anything about John. "That way Jennifer won't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

Jennifer stepped up between them. "I'm ready."

_That's my girl,_ Corrine smiled, looked back at Dayan and offered out her hand. "Then why don't you and I go first, Jen?"

Jennifer nodded and leaned into her mother's body.

It would be awkward to say it was easy talking to a stone, because it wasn't. Corrine looked at the headstone and remembered all times she had awkwardly stood around ranting and crying. Now all she could do was stare and vaguely remember the love she had once thought she had. Beside her, Jennifer moved nervously. Everyone else was silent.

Especially Dayan.

He didn't even breathe.

He didn't feel like he had a reason to be there.

"John…" Corrine sighed. "Oh, John where do I begin?"

She knelt and ran her fingers over the brittle stone. "There are a lot of things I wish I could have said to you all those years ago. A lot of things I wish I could have apologized for or taken back. I know our relationship wasn't…the best in the world, but it certainly was a happy one. You were the best friend I ever had, the shoulder I could count on, and the one person I felt as if I could trust. I miss you, John."

Corrine reached for Jennifer, bringing her close. "When you left, I thought I was alone. Just me and Lisa…and then…" She stroked Jennifer's hair. "You left me a gift and I want to show her to you."

Every expected Jennifer to lay down the flowers and step away, perhaps linger and stare, but no one expected her to kneel at the grave. The little girl looked so serious, so solemn that she hardly seemed like a ten year old.

"My name's Jennifer. My mom said I was named after your mom…I like my name…a lot," Jennifer looked at the flowers and petted each petal as she laid each one down one at a time like a sacred right. "I'm told that I look at a lot like you when I smile, so I think you had a very pretty smile because everyone says mine is pretty.

"But that's not why I'm here," Jennifer touched her breast pocket. "I…I wanted to thank you. I know if…if you didn't exist I wouldn't exist. So I wanted to thank you and let you know that I'm happy. I'm really happy. I wanted you to have this."

Corrine made a small noise that sounded like a gentle laugh and a sob. Her daughter pulled a picture out of her pocket and laid it against the rock. Jennifer's brilliant smile had been captured on the film, but she wasn't alone.

"I wanted you to have that picture so you can always see me smiling," Jennifer smiled. "Me and Mommy are very happy because we have someone special looking out for us. He watches over me and Mommy and always makes sure that we're never sad or scared. He makes me feel very safe, and I love him very much."

Lisa reached for husband's hands, wiping away at her tears. The little girl looked so brilliantly happy, that it seemed just so wrong for all the graves to even be near her. Corrine was silent, but wiped frantically at her eyes…but Dayan was the stillest of them all.

"I…don't know it makes me a bad person, but I hope you won't be mad at me," Jennifer continued, her hands folding in her lap. "Daddies keep their daughters safe, always make them smile, and they are their heroes so I don't want you to worry about me."

Jennifer got up, stepped away from the picture and marched across the grass. She grabbed Dayan's hand and with surprising force dragged him towards the grave. Her little cheeks flushed tightly as she wrapped her arms around Dayan's middle. Her breath came out in a shaky gasp and Dayan could feel her hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Because I have a great Daddy that watches over me," Jennifer wiped at her eyes, swallowing shallowly. "I don't care if he didn't make me or not, he's my daddy because I love him very much and I want you to know that. I love him and he will always be my daddy, no matter what anyone says."

"Jennifer…" Dayan's throat constricted, but he embraced her. After so many fearful nights, he couldn't' do anything but hold her like no tomorrow. He lifted her up into his arms and kissed each tear stained cheek.

"Blood or no blood," He whispered into her hair. "I will always love you no matter what. You're my daughter, Jennifer and I love you more than life itself."

"I love you to the moon and beyond the stars, Daddy."


	23. Women

**Title: Complexity of the Opposite Gender**

**Theme: **Gender

**Pairings: **Small BenjaminxTamara

**Summary: **Benjamin ponders the complexity of women and realizes just how much skill he actually has.

**Sorry for the long gap between updating. College is really grating and I seem to have lost my "spark" lately. *Sigh* Anyway, I hope this update is somewhat of an appeasement for you all to show that I appreciate all the support I've gotten!**

**Please excuse any mistakes. I'm in need of a serious refresher of the series and I am only human so thus I do make mistakes.**

Women were complex.

You could give them jewels for no reason at all other than to show some appreciation for them and they would look at you curiously wondering the reason behind it. You could tell them how beautiful they are and they would instantly point out another female and claim them to be prettier. You could even lavish them in the most richly tuned tales of your gallant being and you'd receive a cold hard slap to the face with reality.

If they were angry, they would go silent. When they wanted attention they would sulk. If, in anyway, they feel as if they had been wronged, you were kicked to the couch for the evening. They fretted, they worried, and they challenged you over every little thing!

Yes, Benjamin realized, women were complex creatures who demanded more tentative care than they wished to admit and when they were offered it, they never truly seemed to appreciate it.

"More tea, Benji?"

"Sounds divine," Benjamin offered his most brilliant smile along with his cup to his lovely hostess for the evening.

She smiled pleasantly, her bright red lips glistening brightly which clashed horribly with the vivid green eye shadow smeared across her brow—not that Benjamin would dare to tell her that. "How many lumps would you like? One or two?" She asked while opening the top of the sugar bowl and scooping at the air.

"One, please. Thank you, Tamara."

"Okay! And you, Papa?"

Benjamin had to fight to keep his face straight as well as the folds of his bright purple dress when he glanced to the three member of this social excursion. Wrapped in a yellow sheet—the only one that Tamara could find to force him into. A horrid black wig was half dangling off his head and clashed terribly with the color of his eyebrows, but no one dared to point that our to Tamara or else they'd have to face the horror of her teary eyes. Benjamin wasn't sure what was worse; the horrible ensemble or Tamara's attempt at makeup.

He was just glad Tamara had done a better job on his than Gabriel's.

At least Benjamin didn't have read lip stick drawn blush on his face.

"Papa," Tamara pouted when Gabriel didn't respond to her question. "Stop _sulking_ or I'm going to tell Momma _who really_ broke her new window."

_Your own child is getting back at you. I think I now understand how Cronus felt with Zeus._ Benjamin chuckled, gently picking up his cup.

"Your pinky, Ben!" Tamara hissed tightly, her little hands flying up into the air in exasperation. Her dark curls fluttered around her as she pushed back her tiny chair to get to her feet. "How many times do I have to tell you? Ladies drink with their pinkies out!"

_See what you did? _Gabriel shot a glare Benjamin. _Instead of scolding me, you should learn to follow directions._

So said the mighty Carpathian as he proceeded to sip his pretend tea with one large pink sticking out in the air. For someone that could easily kill vampires with just his mind at a distance, he was awfully smug sitting there in his tiny chair.

"Ahem."

Tamara folded her arms over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. "What do you have to say for yourself, Ben?"

"Um…" Benjamin winced, trying to recall the years his mother had spent hammering manners into him yet none of them seemed to match up with Tamara's own rules. His wary eyes caught Gabriel's smirking grin and that did it for him.

"Pardon me, Tamara. I didn't mean to sullen your beautiful party with my rudeness. Forgive me, I just haven't had the pleasure of your proper training growing up," It was a low move, but Benjamin too all that much too pleasure in gently grasping Tamara's hand to his lips. "I beg your humblest pardons."

"Oh, Ben…" Tamara's smile slowly came back. "I can't stay mad at you."

Whether it was six or seven or twenty-eight, Benjamin realized as Tamara jumped into his arms, women were complex.

He was just glad that he had the skills to handle them.

"_Papa! PINKY!"_

Too bad Gabriel didn't.


	24. Odd Behavior

**Title: **Odd behavior

**Theme**: behavior

**Rating: **A little hinting, nothing bad. PG-13

**Pairing(s): **Dominic x Solange, De La Cruz brothers x their lifemates

**Summary: **Dominic is worried about Solange, but he can't seem to figure her out for the life of him. But is he the only one confused?

* * *

Dominic couldn't figure out what had gotten into Solange.

'It'(as that was the only way he could describe this strangeness) had begun one evening when he had happened to catch her walking passed a mirror. She had glanced at her reflection and had to stare, slowly running her hands along her frame, one hand propping at her back and the other gently caressing the front of her stomach.

She seemed peaceful, serene, but overall very curious to her appearance.

Solange didn't normally do that. Dominic was stunned into silence, tilting his head from the doorway and watching the way she turned and stared at her reflection from all angles. The moment she realized that she was being watched, she flushed and stormed off for a run through the rainforest. Despite his calling out to her, she had avoided him for most of the night and only came slinking back to their chamber when she thought he had slipped off to rest without her.

There were times he would catch her touching her face and slowly cupping the fullness of her breasts and frowning. He too frowned, unable to comprehend why her supple bust could make her frown.

This strangeness continued for weeks, but when he approached the topic she always sidestepped it but dodging the question or distracting him with her wandering hands.

"You can tell me if something is bothering you," he had pressed one night.

She had her mind blocked to him, focusing only on the feel of his skin and his smell. "Nothing's nothing me. Everything is fine. Just perfect."

_Just. Perfect._ Just two words. So why was there warning bells going off in this head?

Dominic was getting more and more confused. His confusion only grew when Jasmine had come to visit bringing along her three month old child. Much to his amusement, when the child had been born, Solange had spent most of the time across the room from Jasmine. She had rebuked any offer at holding Jasmine's offspring.

"I don't like kids. They smell," she tried to lie and when that didn't work she tried, "I'll just make the babe cry."

For someone who claimed to hate kids, Solange gave in pretty quickly when Jasmine expressed a need to use the restroom and was about to set her child back into a carrier.

"You can't leave a baby on its back all the time," Solange inserted a bit roughly.

Jasmine looked surprised. "Oh…w-well you're right…Dominic," She turned to him. "Could you hold—"

"I'll hold it," Solange butted in suddenly.

It was all he could do to keep from smiling as Jasmine helped coax Solange into holding the babe. She had fumbled at first, Dominic easily reading the stress and fear on her face. But it didn't last. The babe only peeked up at Solange and snuggled closer to her body.

After that, Jasmine had to call Juliette to help coax Solange into returning the child.

Solange's oddity only grew as she and Dominic settled into a home. Cats were known for being curious, seeking out places and marking them as their own. For that reason, he gave Solange free reign to decorate as she wished—even to build a room for Jasmine for when she felt the need to visit or if she felt like staying with them.

One evening he found her thumbing through catalogs provided by MaryAnn, frowning and attempting to pick through furniture and wallpaper. Dominic had been amused and suggested letting MaryAnn help her decide since she claimed that she "had no idea what half this stuff was".

"No," Solange shut the magazine suddenly. "I want to do this myself."

She was stubborn over it and seemed to not even like when he peeked over his shoulder at her. But in one rare instance she had approached him cautiously.

"Do you think this would look nice is a child's room?" She offered him pictures of lovely printed wallpaper.

"I think Jasmine would love it for when they come to visit," Dominic replied.

She slapped him with the magazine and refused to ask his opinion again.

The behavior continued. MaryAnn had taken the liberty in keeping a firm relationship with Solange and had taken to showing her many dramas movies. Dominic had attempted to sit through one, but in the end, retreated for the safety of his study with Manolito.

The two only returned later when they felt the sudden sharp sadness from their lifemates. They rushed into the room, half tripping over each other, only to find MaryAnn dabbing redden tissue to her eyes and sniffling at the screen as an actress and actor peered down happily at their daughter.

"She couldn't walk," MaryAnn sniffled, trying to explain. "But she walked to her dying mother!"

Dominic looked at Manolito who looked to him; neither able to explain it. He looked to Solange who sat there rather straight faced, but he couldn't mistake the redden tissue in her own hand. Three days later, he caught her watching the same movie again and when she left the room, he found an empty Kleenex box stuffed under the couch.

"I don't understand," Dominic finally spilled it all, looking at the several bewildered faces in front of him.

Riordan looked to Rafael who looked to Nicolas who was looking at Manolito who was casually staring at Zacarias. And Zacarias was too busy staring out the window.

The De La Cruz brothers were the closest Carpathians Dominic interacted with. Especially considering, Solange's closeness to Juliette, Riordan's lifemate, there was an unmistakable support for all the males. They watched each others' back, kept contact, and gave help when needed.

But at the moment all the males were doing nothing but staring at one another cluelessly, unable to find any words to describe it.

"She's constantly looking at herself in the mirror?" Riordan frowned, touching his face thoughtfully. "I thought Juliette was the only one doing that."

"Colby and Ginny have been talking about decorating one of the extra rooms for a while now," Rafael looked on curiously. "She seemed upset when I didn't understand the need to safety proof the room any further. She mentioned putting little plastic things in light sockets to keep fingers out."

Nicolas shuttered, "Lara has been offering to babysit Stefan, Tamara, and Anya and Anastasia for the last several nights alternatively."

"MaryAnn is not speaking to me since I commented that childbirth is not as easy as her movies make them seem," Manolito winced, rubbing his inner thigh, his eyes looking as if he were reliving a terrible moment. "She is still not pleased with me."

This unsettling news made Dominic look on even more uncomfortably. "Do you think something is causing them to act strange? Something they are not telling us?"

"A vampire, perhaps?" Rafael looked on thoughtfully. "One that is perhaps messing with their minds?"

"A mage could be the cause as well," Riordan curled his lip in disgust.

"Or," Zacarias spoke up. "It could be none of that."

Five eyes yanked his way where he leaned against the window staring outside to where all the women gathered. He turned his blue eyes on them, a smug smirk on his face.

Dominic hated that look and growled. "How would you know what it is?"

"Perhaps, because my lifemate and I strive on communication? There is nothing she can easily keep from me."

"Then what is it?" Manolito threw his hands up. "If it's not a mage and it's not a vampire, then what?"

"I believe the creature you are looking for weighs no more than eleven pounds and is twenty-two inches in length. It has dark curly hair and dark eyes as well as an obsessive need to spew toxic smelling liquid from its mouth and unleash unnatural screams."

All the men in the room cringed at the imagery, each painting a more unnerving picture than the last one. Manolito whistled softly, "Sounds like one horrible creature."

"I've never heard of one before," Nicolas spoke up, thoughtfully touching his chin.

"Well," Zacarias pointed out the window. "There's one right outside with our lifemates now."

The men leaped for the door, shoving and pushing their way out of it. Dominic shoved aside Riordan and awkwardly forced himself out the door with Rafael, bumping and rubbing against the fellow Carpathian in ways that he didn't want to ever repeat again. In their haste and panic, not a single one of them thought to change shape.

None of them were in the right set of mind except for one—Zacarias as he took up the rear to step up behind the shocked looking Carpathians.

Dominic was confused as he stared at the creature Zacarias described. "I…don't understand."

Riordan chuckled and had to grasp Nicolas' shoulder to keep himself upright. Nicolas looked ready to punch him but there was an amusing glint in his eyes. Manolito just hissed a curse word.

And Dominic…

He just stared as his lifemate happily 'chewed' on the creature's tiny fist.

Solange was glowing with lots of pride, playfully arguing with Juliette over the rights to be the next in line to hold the creature. Lara was shaking a rattle happily. MaryAnn was in the process of laying out a blanket and setting out toys while Colby helped lay out toys on the grass. Even Margarita seemed to have joined in, leaning over Solange's shoulder with a happy smile.

"Y'know…"

Jasmine stormed up to the men, her hands falling to her hips. She didn't tremble in front of them. She didn't cower. Instead she stared them down like the pissed off wildcat she was.

"You could go and do something!" Jasmine gestured unhappily. "I want my baby back!"

"Well…" Riordan looked to his brothers and Dominic. "You heard our little sister. We need to do something."

A shared smile started, rolling up each of their faces. Their predatory needs seemed to fall behind a different warm glow that came from deep inside their chests. The road before them was not without perils, they all knew that well, but none of them could resist the glow coming off their women.

"You do not have to tell me twice," Zacarias moved his way down the stairs without glancing back. "I believe I have my reputation as the eldest to uphold."

"Not on your life," Nicolas snorted, following.

Manolito chuckled, catching his lifemate's attention and opening his hand to her. "Perhaps, MaryAnn and I should show you all how it's done."

Rafael chuckled. "I can't wait to make you eat your words."

Dominic watched them all go, each with their own measure. Zacaraias swept to his lifemate with great ease, wrapping his arms possessively around her. Nicolas was more subtle, but not any less demanding. Riordan's movements were slower and sleek like a cat after his woman. Rafael had no problem sliding his hands into the back of Colby's jeans. Manolito wasted no time in attaching his lips to MaryAnn's…

And Dominic…

He absorbed the image of Solange holding that child. The way her body seemed to rock with slow grace, her eyes parting with nothing but protective and love. She was beautiful, stunning and it stole his breath. He took that image and locked it to his mind, holding it as his goal.

Let the others race and compete.

Dominic was going to enjoy the ride.

* * *

**A/N: I am so out of practice. I ended up working for a while and going to school so pretty much when summer hit I fell off the radar. I've been working on random bits of writing, but none of it seems good enough to make it here. **

**In fact, I started three different OC tales just to try, but I end up scrapping the ideas. I started a few oneshots only to get the same effect. I'm thinking of cleaning out my account and removing an old story that I've lost interest in so that might vanish soon. I find my work unsatisfactory for it, but I like the one shots so these are staying. But the updates will come and go. I hope to start on another one soon.**

**I think I just have a case of lazy writer/writing block syndrome.**

**Anyway this idea came to me when I finished reading **_Dark Predator_.** It wasn't a bad read, but it wasn't my favorite. I was used to the males being very dominating, but at times I felt as if Zacarias was bordering on suffocating her. **

**Part of me has been drabbling in the **_Mageverse _**series by Angela Knight as well. I'm tempted to write a fanfic for that…someday.**


	25. Path Untraveled

**Title:** Path Untraveled

**Themes:** Two Roads

**Pairings:** None are the focus, but you do have Gregori x Savannah, grandparently love Mikhail x Anya

**Summary:** She is not her sister. She cannot stand to compete with her sister, no matter how hard she tries. She is only her reflection and none of her sustenance. How can she ever bring her father pride?

* * *

"Mikhail."

The Prince pushed aside his book in order to clasp arms with his best friend and son-in-law.

"Gregori, I didn't expect you this evening."

The Dark One shook his head slowly, exhaling and making a noise that sounded too much like a hiss. His hair was a mess, his eyes wide and his jaw tight; completely lacking in his usual graceful appearance. Mikhail could safely say that in all his centuries, he had only seen Gregori this muddled once; nearly fifteen years prior at the birth of his daughters.

"Have you see Anya?" Gregori was scanning the room, looking around for any sign of his twin daughter. Mikhail arched an eyebrow at his bluntness and sharp tone—something he noted that was becoming associated with Anya.

"She hasn't planned a visit with me or Raven for some time. Is something the matter, Gregori?" Mikhail tilted his head, patiently awaiting an answer.

Gregori opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and shook his head slowly. "There is nothing wrong. Anya has simply neglected her studies again and now I must play this cat and mouse game with her. I am sorry to have disturbed your studies."

"If you need help I would be happy to," Mikhail began.

"No," Gregori cut him off. "She is my daughter and she will learn to live as my daughter should."

And just like that, Gregori was gone. He turned and simply vanished, streaming out the nearest window to continue his hunt.

Mikhail sighed. While it was true his daughter had happily brought some peace to his friend, Gregori, at times, fell into his olden ways. It seemed his daughters had been the trigger to that—especially Anya.

"Perhaps you would like to explain this to me, _csitri_?" Mikhail waved his hand towards his desk, effectively removing the invisibility she held tight around her and exposing her hiding under his desk.

Anya, just like her twin sister, had the same dark hair that fell in loose curls. Both were still young and growing into their teenage bodies and strengths. They shared the same willowy frame growing up but as the two entered their womanhood, Mikhail could see a small difference.

Anastasia valued her studies and always spent time at Gregori's side. Her body took on a more supple curve, while Anya enjoyed playing and running through the mountains with Gregori hunting her down. She was more athletic, and joyful rather than serious.

Anya was almost always smiling, especially when Mikhail saw her. As a child, Anya would actively seek out his studies to listen to his stories and to challenge him to mocking sword fights with Raven's good knitting needles.

It was hard to connect that smiling childlike face to the weepy eyed young woman cowering under his desk.

"Anya…"

Mikhail knelt down at the desk and sighed. The girl shifted her knees tighter to her chest, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry you had to lie for me, Grandpa."

He forced a small smile, gently touching her knee.

"Young one, what makes you think I lied? I simply left out a few facts. You did not plan to visit me. He did not ask if you remained," Mikhail patted her knee. "Your father has left now so why don't you come out and talk to me?"

She didn't want to leave her hiding space at first, but with a gentle use of compulsion in his voice, Anya gave into her desire and climbed out. Her tension never left her, even as Mikhail poured her some herbal tea and tried to coax her into drinking.

"Grandpa," Anya met his gaze, her eyes looking too much like her mother's. "I think Father hates me."

Mikhail blinked. "Your father loves you, Anya."

"No, he doesn't. He hates me." Anya tucked her hands to her face, "Stefan invited me to go out into the mountains with him today. He was going to show me some of the sword skills Uncle Jacques was teaching him."

"Sword skills aren't something you should worry about learning," Mikhail frowned.

Anya's shoulders tightened. "That's exactly what Father said too. But I wanted to learn. I just wanted to go for a little bit and I planned to be back before my lessons, but Father came looking for me. He dragged me away from Stefan."

The young Carpathian nipped at her tongue, her eyes flashing with hurt and outraged. "It wasn't fair! I had almost created a sword on my own when Father interrupted and dragged me away. He kept insisting that I had to study because I wasn't good at the ancient language as Ana and that I needed to practice healing because I can't get it perfect like Ana!"

All through her rant, Mikhail leaned back, letting her spill everything in her heart. He didn't need to pry into her mind, but he carefully did so anyway. Her mind had opened to him with her anger and he felt everything.

Mikhail could see Gregori's angry face so strongly in Anya's mind that it was almost as if the Dark One was standing right in front of him. Anger that Gregori denounced anything she loved as something that wasn't worth her time and anger at Gregori for comparing her to Ana. There came an image of Gregori and Anya sitting side by side in front of a fireplace discussing literature and history…and a distinct feeling of longing but no way on how to belong.

Mikhail saw Stefan through Anya as a vision of hope. He saw what she liked and understood. He even told her how good her drawings were and how intriguing her stories, filled with fantasy and adventure, were. He saw the good things, but not Gregori. Gregori had once found her writing a story instead of studying and had taken it, refusing to give it back until she had studied her languages.

And when he did, he gave it back with written comments and scribbles in her own work. Gregori had tried to connect, perhaps thinking he was helping her by correcting her work, but to Anya, Gregori was criticizing what she loved and not appreciating her.

Each pain that Anya felt, Mikhail was seeing. It was so clear, that he couldn't help but wonder how Gregori had missed his own daughter's pain. Anya was beginning to see her sister as a beautiful idol, a part of her she could never reach. Ana was beside Gregori and Savannah with no problems. Gregori barely had to waste energy in helping Ana change shape, but Anya needed help and lots of guidance.

Mikhail could see Anya spending nights playing with metals, making bracelets and jewelry. He saw her inner talent of finding gems. But he also found a distinct desire of hers to wield a sword with even half the strength of her father.

To her, Gregori was perfection and Anya felt as if she could never get his approval.

"It's not fair," Anya broke off in a tired sob. "I study. I do. It's not like I don't try, Grandpa. But it's never enough. He's always mad at me. Always yelling before I can explain and when I don't want to listen, he compels me to. There is no way I can be what he expects me to be, Grandpa."

Mikhail pushed aside his tea and chair. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. She resisted with a pitiful sob, but he held tighter until she buried her face into his shirt and cried.

"You're perfect, Anya. Do you hear me, _csitri_?" Mikhail soothed down her hair gently. His words made her sob just a bit harder. "You are a gift. A beautiful, wonderful gift to us all. You are cherished as yourself and you should feel no shame in that."

"I…I let him down." Anya couldn't meet his eyes, not even as she tried to wipe the stains from her face.

"No," Mikhail caught her chin and made her look at him. "You could never shame your father, Anya. Perhaps frustrate him, but that is not your fault. Gregori loves you and your sister. Perhaps, he finds a harder time in understanding you—but that is his faults, not yours."

"Father has no faults."

"Even perfection has faults," he insisted. "Your father is old, Anya. In his time, young females stayed home and learned. They nurtured and cared for their families. He does not comprehend your desire to hunt gems or raise a sword."

Mikhail could recall those days clearly. Once he had thought that the normal way for all females to live—sheltered, adored, and carefully raised—but seeing the world in Anya's mind, he could see nothing but a caged life. He could sense her intelligence and creativity, but knowing that she couldn't live to her father's expectations was slowly breaking down her heart and building resentment.

"I can't be what he wants me to be," Anya confessed. "I can't make him change any more than I can. I can't be like Anya. We only look alike, but I can't compete."

Sweeping her hair back from her eyes, Mikhail touched her cheeks with his hands. "Anya, I want you to come with me."

She looked stunned. "Are you going to take me to my father?"

"No," Mikhail shook his head. "While I think you should let Gregori know how you feel, I have something I think you should see. Wait here while I make sure that everything is clear before we depart."

He stepped aside out of his quiet office, leaving Anya to ponder what her grandfather was up to. Was he secretly taking her home? She didn't wish to return and to see her father's disappointed face again.

Anya was very hesitant about following Mikhail when he returned but moments later. Yet, his gentle holding of her hand helped calm her nerves. He took her in his arms much like he did when she was a child. Although she too could levitate, she still lacked the concentration to soar through the air like their kind. While her sister excelled at most skills in a matter of weeks, Anya often lagged behind her by months at a time.

Mikhail squeezed her hand, as if sensing what she was thinking. Anya shyly looked away. Her doubts and reflections were hindering her.

"Look down," Mikhail pointed to a long path cutting through the trees and mountains. The path branched off into two paths; one straight and smooth, the other overgrown and lost in debris and not used. "Do you see those two roads?"

"Yes," Anya looked confused.

"Which one would you take?"

"The smooth one, of course." Anya answered without missing a beat.

Mikhail took her hand and the two of them soared over the path following it. "It is a very beautiful path. Very straight forward. Each to navigate and hard to get lost, right? That is why you find it much more appealing, correct?"

Anya nodded; suddenly realizing the path was bending around and leading them back to where they started. "We're back."

"Yes," Mikhail chuckled at her surprised voice. "The path is beautiful and easy with few dips so it is often chosen to be traveled. Many people would encourage their loved ones to walk along this path because it is safe. It has its own purpose and its own importance. But so does the unbeaten path."

Anya looked confused as Mikhail forced her to follow him. The two of them flew over the path, Mikhail guiding her through the thick brush as they came lower. Anya could see the way the path rocked back and forth and was constantly obstructed by a fallen tree or moss.

No one ever came along this one, she noted.

Yet as they went, she saw flowers that didn't exist on the other path. She saw streams with fish she hadn't seen before and sights that were new.

"This path," Mikhail spoke up as he guided her into landing at the path's end. The two of them came to rest on a cliff overlooking a beautiful stream where the moon hung high in the distance. "Is not popular because of its roughness, but you could see that it hides much beauty and life. It is unpopular because it can be seen as hard and difficult. Not many people would want to see their loved ones struggle to walk it."

The sight was beautiful, the way the moon danced over the stream and the tiny stars seemed to flicker. The other path did not come high enough to embrace such a sight.

"Both paths are perfect and beautiful in their own ways," Mikhail continued. "One is just easier to live and walk. Anya, child. Anyone can walk the easy path, but it takes a select few to embrace the unwalked path. And if anyone can do it, it's you."

The young female Carpathian blushed, her heavy eyes looking around her. This path was not just a path—it was her life. It was the things she loved and like a fool she had thought them inferior to the other. She walked around, embracing the beautiful site and reaching to curl her hand up towards the sky.

She thought it beautiful, but then she thought of her father.

Gregori and his disapproving gaze. Had he pushed her so hard because he feared she would have trouble? Did he doubt her so much?

"I want him to be proud of me," Anya curled her hand to her chest. "But I don't want to be something I'm not, Grandpa."

Mikhail reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her chin. "Young one, you don't have to. Your father was foolish for not seeing it sooner. Being yourself is the best way to bring honor and pride to your father. He will always love you no matter what path you walk. You are his daughter—his precious daughter."

She embraced him tightly, pressing her lips against his cheek. "Thank you for believing in me."

He pressed his fingers to her back, kissing her opposite cheek. "Young one, you do not have to thank me for simply loving you."

They parted ways, giving him to room to stroke her cheek. "Now it's time for you to be hurrying home before your mother begins to worry."

"I can go on my own," Anya spoke with a string of confidence she didn't have before.

"Are you sure?" Mikhail seemed surprised at her sudden confidence.

"Yes."

As if to prove her point she began to levitate in the air. Mikhail grinned and touched her cheek once more, as if he could not really comprehend what he was seeing. "Hurry home, young one. Be safe. _Kulkesz arwaval—go with glory._"

The look of pure happiness on Anya's face as she soared off into the sky, heading for home was more than enough to put Mikhail's feelings to rest. He stood there, watching her vanish as she concealed herself until he could not feel her anymore.

Only then did he turn his head to stare at the figure of a man hunched over a rock.

"You should have been the one to tell her that, Gregori," said Mikhail as he rose from where he had been sitting in silence.

'Mikhail' tore his eyes aware from where Anya had vanished and his form shifted back to his natural appearance. Gregori shook off the tremors in his body, exhaling tiredly. Mikhail stalked closer and clasped his friend on the shoulder.

"Do not blame yourself, Gregori. You raised your daughters in the manner that you thought best," Mikhail tried to comfort him. "You thought only of her well-being."

"No," Gregori shook his head. "I thought of her future—not her childhood or even of herself. Of where _I_ thought she should be. I…I never thought that…"

"She would be so much like you?" Mikhail arched a brow. "It was not too long ago in my mind that that you, my friend, once had to choose between raising a sword or studying ancient scrolls."

"And I too, acted just as my father had." Gregori wiped a tired hand over his eyes, the pain clear in his face. "I did not seek to understand, only to command. I treated her as if she was the problem."

Gregori met Mikhail's arm with his own, clasping his wrist tightly in both hands. "I cannot thank you enough for helping me understand my daughter, Mikhail."

"Even though she was angry and hurt, deep down all she wanted was to be with you. To know you loved her."

"Yes, but you have made her smile so much more. I…cannot comprehend what I would do if I lost any of my daughters. Thank you from saving me from making my own mistake worse."

Mikhail chuckled, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "My friend, hasn't anyone told you that's what grandparents are for?"

* * *

**A/N: ** So I have to thank Phantome101 for giving me the idea of a "grandfatherly" Mikhail. I sat around thinking of everything I could do for him. I mean he could get the girls riled up on sugar high and send them home. Actually might write that some time.

But honestly, I kept thinking of the way that Gregori now has two little girls to deal with. I have twins in my family so I often hear of how one would always feel inferior to the other. This might not be true for all twins, but I really got addicted to the idea of Anya being not at all like Gregori would think his children should be.

Then this idea formed. I thought of Gregori often having too much of a dominant personality and Mikhail having to step in to make peace—but of course, deep down we all know Gregori just has a tough image to keep. That aside, I also realize I'm starting to create lots of head pairings such as Ben x Tamara and now I might have a bit of Stefan x Anya thing here. Oops.

Please forgive any grammar errors. I am a busy college student that does all that I can to fix and correct my mistakes.


	26. Contagious

**Title:** Contagious

**Theme:** Sick

**Pairings:** Josef x Ginny

**Summary: **Taking place days before the events in Dark Celebration, Josef finds himself in a bit of a pickle and looking for a way out. Ginny is stuck to deal with her head cold. What could the two ever have in common?

* * *

"JOSEF!"

He was going to die.

Josef was torn between absolute laughter or fearing for his life. Byron and Jacques were after his head. To be fair though, he had no idea that Byron and Jacques were going to be busting into the room.

How was he supposed to know that Byron wouldn't bother knocking? Or that he'd lose his balance and spill all the glitter everywhere? Or that Josh had "accidentally" spilled glue all over the two of them already?

Or better yet, that Josh and Travis would blame him at the last minute. Man, those little twerps were going to get it later.

The two Carpathians were right on his tail and they were hell bent on revenge. Josef had no choice but to do what any sane person would have done at that moment; he fled.

He couldn't change shape well, but he sure as hell could run and that's exactly what he did. He dove out the back door and into the woods, using whatever small tricks he could to throw them off. But it was useless, as he circled back towards a house currently in use for the holiday. Raven had insisted on throwing a Christmas party and many Carpathians had flocked to the mountains for it.

Byron and Jacques were going to catch him and he was going to be in so much trouble. They'd probably break all his CDs, or worse!

Force him to do all the dishes after the Christmas party.

Didn't they know what dish soap did to his hands hands?

"_You__can__'__t__hide__forever.__Come__and__be__a__man.__Show__yourself,__Josef,__"_ Byron called, vindictively.

Josef shuddered at the words, crouching beside the cottage. He could practically see the terrible gleam in his uncle's eyes. It was only a matter of time before they caught him and…and…

_Shhtuck._

A wad of snow fell onto his head, making Josef nearly jump out of his skin. He yelped, spinning around, expecting Byron or Jacques to be swinging a sword for his head. Instead, he found himself face to face with big eyes and a messy head. Wearing nothing but a thin nightgown covered in butterflies, a red nosed girl peered at him almost sheepishly.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there." The girl sniffled, coughing into her fist.

Josef relaxed just a bit. It was just a little girl. She couldn't have been more than ten or eleven at most. Her skin seemed lightly tanned, but ashened. She was sick, Josef realized with a slight stir of surprise. Having been born Carpathian, seeing an ill person was something new to him.

"Its fine," he assured her, dusting the snow off his head. "You just hit me with one big snowball and scared the heck out of me, but that's okay. Shouldn't you be sleeping? I don't think sick little girls are supposed to wander around in their jammies."

The girl puffed at her cheeks at him, her ears reddening just a bit. "At least, I'm not the one creeping around outside windows."

"I'm not creeping," Josef snorted, "I'm on the run."

"Did you do something bad?"

"Uh…something like that," Josef cringed, glancing over his shoulder. "I was framed."

The girl frowned skeptically, "Aren't you, Josef? Colby says you're a prankster."

"So my reputation precedes me!" Josef threw her a big ol' wolfish grin. He reached to grab part of the window still. The girl backed up quickly, dropping backwards onto a bed. "But I didn't do it this time. I promise. Mind if I come in?"

The girl crossed her arms firmly. "Rafael wouldn't like for me to invite a stranger in."

"Then what's your name?"

"Ginny," she eyed him up and down.

"Well hi there, Ginny," Josef gave a little wave. "I'm Josef. See? We're not strangers. We're friends. Now can I come in?"

"Friends…" Ginny looked surprised. Her skeptical look melted away to be left with an almost shy smile. "Alright…but only if you're my friend, Josef."

He liked the way she said that. The way she seemed to curl a bit of possessive hint to the word 'friend'.

Josef grinned broadly, and lifted himself inside. He kicked the snow off his shoes as he wiggled inside, flopping to the ground rather ungracefully. Ginny broke into laughter at his antics, peering down at him from her bed.

"Hey now," Josef threw her a playful glare. "You're not supposed to laugh at a guy who climbs through your window."

"Sorry, but I don't normally have boys doing that sort of thing," Ginny laughed, but the sound was interrupted as she broke into a fitful of coughs.

"I find that hard to believe," Josef rolled his eyes.

Josef's playfulness dissolved into worry as she hunched over coughing more violently and until her face was flushed red. He got to his feet and leaned over her, gently rubbing her back and pushing the hair out of her face.

"Hey now, breathe. I can't have you keel over on me. I don't want anyone to think I'm a murderer."

Ginny made a noise that was a cross between a cough and a laugh.

"You really are sick, aren't you? Here. Lay back on your pillows and breathe." Josef reached for her pillows, helping stack them until she was comfortable. Her hair was sprawled around her and she looked so tired. "Maybe I should go."

"No," Ginny coughed softly, clearing her throat. She latched onto his wrist with pleading eyes. "Please don't. Colby and Rafael are gone and Paul doesn't want to get sick so he won't come see me."

"You're here alone?" Josef couldn't help but horrified at such a thing. While he couldn't ever recall being sick, he knew that few times he had gotten injured his parents had instantly been there. "Where's your parents?"

"In heaven," Ginny sniffled and fumbled for a tissue to blow her red nose. "But Colby—she's my sister and her husband, Rafael takes good care of Paul and I."

Josef nodded slowly, gently taking a seat on the edge of her bed. He scrunched up his nose at the sight of her snotty tissue, but didn't comment. Instead he summoned the basket from across the room for her to toss it away. She blinked, a bit taken back, but didn't comment.

"I lost my parents when I was baby," Josef offered, smiling gently. "But I have Eleanor and Vlad. They're my parents now and I love them very much. They wouldn't leave me alone if I was sick like you."

"I just have a cold," Ginny defended rather weakly. "I don't do well in the cold. It's never cold in Texas or on the ranch."

"I forget that humans are so much more fragile."

Ginny nudged him sharply with her foot. "Hey!"

Josef poked her cheek with his finger. "Well you are."

"Am not!"

"Are too," Josef rolled his eyes. "Do you always argue with your elders?"

"Only when they're wrong," Ginny coughed. "You're a pain. Maybe I should have left you out there to get punished."

"But then you'd be all alone," Josef waved his hand at her. "Come on, admit it, Ginny. You're having fun."

To that, Ginny couldn't deny. She huffed and tried to look annoyed, but she couldn't deny that he was right. Colby and Rafael had gone off and Paul was supposed to watch over her. But Paul didn't want to be sick, so unless he was bringing her soup, Ginny was stuck all alone in a new place and unable to explore.

"I want to go outside," Ginny looked sadly at the window. "It's so boring being inside all day. I wish I wasn't sick. I really do. I've never got to see snow before and I want to see all the animals. But Colby won't let me out until I'm not sick anymore."

"You could get worse if you don't listen to her," Josef pointed out. He laid backwards on her mattress, folding his arms behind his head without a care in the world. "But when you get better, I can take you out. I know all the great places to see things. I might even be able to introduce you to a wolf or two."

"Could you?" Ginny sat up.

Josef tsked. "Not if you don't rest and get better, I won't."

She flopped back against her pillows, but rather than sulking she looked excited. Josef watched the way her eyes lit up and the way she nibbled on her thumb to contain her excitement. It was adorable, Josef realized.

The tranquil moment was ruined by a sharp knock on Ginny's door. Josef sat up instantly. Ginny watched in surprise as he rolled off the bed and forced his way under her bed, hissing.

"Shhh! I'm not here."

The door opened as Colby peeked inside. Ginny jerked her head from the floor and tried to smile at her sister and not think about the teenage boy already wedged tightly under her bed. It was like something out of one of the sitcoms that Colby used to scoff at.

"You really shouldn't leave the window open," Colby shook her head and waved her hand, shutting the window instantly. "I know how much you want to go outside, Ginny. But not until you're better."

"Yes, Colby." Ginny mentally wished her sister would hurry up and leave.

But no…

Colby had to tuck the covers around her and gently smooth Ginny's hair back. All the while, Ginny was mentally doing her best not to draw attention to the tip of a shoe just barely sticking out from under her bed.

"You're back early," Ginny spoke softly, "I thought Rafael and you were going to meet with some people."

"We were," Colby sighed. "But it seems that prankster, Josef struck again and Byron and Jacques went off to find him. You haven't seen him, have you?"

_He__'__s__hiding__under__my__bed,_ Ginny suppressed that thought and smiled happily. Under the bed she was sure that Josef was probably sweating bullets knowing that he could be found at any moment.

"I've been sitting in here under lock and cage," Ginny whined. "What do you think, Colby?"

"Alright, alright. Point made," Colby raised her hands and laughed, winking at her. "Just get some rest, Ginny."

Ginny sulked back into her pillows until Colby shut the door behind her, pondering if she was perhaps underestimating her sister again. The bed shifted as Josef crawled out, a big triumphant grin on his face.

"I really owe you one," He offered her a high five, which she took gladly. "You really saved my neck there. Byron and Jacques won't bother to look for me here for a while. Or at least until all the glitter washes off."

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "You promised to take me out. Don't forget."

Josef laughed and nudged her chin with his knuckles. "Don't you worry. I don't forget promises I make to pretty girls."

Ginny flushed and swatted his hands away. "You're terrible!"

"You'll get used to it," Josef flopped onto the mattress beside her. "I'm contagious."

"Funny," Ginny coughed as she smacked him with her pillow. "So am I."

* * *

**A/N:** So I wanted to try a new pairing that is a little off and not at all canon. I know there's a some years between the two of them, but I couldn't resist giving Josef a playful teasing moment. I kind of have that feeling of both Ginny and Josef having that craving for friends, so I couldn't help doing a small meeting between them.

Special thanks to everyone who reviews. Reviews make me smile and encourage me to post despite having loads of homework. (Bleh to Spanish in college, man. Learning a language is only 33 classes is hard!)

But yes, small amount of complaining aside, I felt drawn to a bit of a Ginny and Josef piece. I also fell somewhere in love with this coupling and did two more written pieces that I'm editing-slash-debating on posting. I mostly write by whatever comes to mind, so I'm thinking on it.

What do you think? Should I?


	27. Molds

**Title:**Taking Shape

**Theme:** Molds

**Pairings:** No romantic, just a father daughter moment.

**Summary:** Gregori is always learning new things, but this lesson certainly had to hurt the most.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Anya kept her hands folded at her sides, staring intently at the ground. Her eyes were shining with tears, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. Her father didn't move from his spot on the ground, but laid utterly still, his face contorted in a painful expression. His hands at his sides twitched violently, while he made the effort to heal himself.

"I…I could help…" she tried to offer, only for Gregori to growl.

"No."

She winced at his sharp tone and went back to staring at the ground. Her black pants were already dirty and her top showed signs of wear from just that morning's exercise. All this time, Anya had thought she had improved. She had honestly been practicing to help control her impulses and be able to do things that the other Carpathians could.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, although she knew it was useless. Her eyes, much like her mother's, continued to fill with more tears. "I…I can call for Mother or Ana."

Gregori shook his head, wincing. "Do not."

"Father, please."

"Anya. Be silent."

Anya hung her head, the image of complete uselessness. The first time her father had finally offered to show her how to fight—how to engage an enemy—she had proved herself below his standards once more. It was enough to make her want to return home and hide herself deep inside the earth were no one could ever find her.

The one chance she had to prove herself to her father and she had ruined it.

The shuffling of Gregori's clothing caught her attention and Anya jerked her head up to watch her father get to his feet—his motion awkward and still very clearly in pain. Anya bit her lower lip and fought not to whine out loud.

Gregori was never going to forgive her for this.

"Get up." Gregori grunted, one hand falling his hips as he drew himself to his full height.

Anya winced, but did as she was told, unable to meet his gaze. She didn't want to see his disappointed stare.

"You did well."

"What?" Anya snapped her head up.

Now it was her father's turn to look at her like she was crazy. "I said," he spoke slowly, "That you did well."

"B…but I hurt you," Anya protested.

The Dark One only shook his head, although he did wince only once. "Did I hurt you?"

"Of course not," Anya shook her head.

"Then you did well," Gregori touched the top of her head, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes. "You stopped me before I could hurt you."

"B…but I didn't…"

Gregori raised a brow. "Didn't what? Call down a strike of lightning? Fire from the skies? Anya, you are still young and learning. You are much younger than Josef. You cannot expect yourself to do all that he can."

"But Ana can," Anya frowned, feeling her ears pinken in embarrassment.

Gregori sighed. It was useless to argue with her like this and he knew it. He could only drape an arm protectively around her, and draw her close. "Yes, she can. But if she was unable to do those things, she would be in danger. You, however, didn't even think. You reacted with your instincts—no matter…how unethical of a move it was. It was still effective."

Anya took his words in stride, the space between her brows puckering before her eyes lit up. "You…you mean I did well."

"I have already said that—yes. You did well," Gregori sighed, "You have good reflexes. You have potential to be very strong."

His daughter tackled Gregori into a hug. The Dark One stiffened as pain in his lower body flared up, but the gentle hug of his daughter seemed far too pleasant for him not to deal with it. Anya looked so happy—happier than he had ever seen her in a long time. She murmured words in pleasure and pulled away with a proud look.

"We'll do this again, won't we, Father?"

Gregori winced, but nodded. "_Oui_. Just not...for at least another two risings."

Anya winced with him. "I'll try not to do _that_ again," she promised.

"I should hope not," Gregori shook his head. "At least not to me."

Anya looked confused and he continued, "You have been spending too much time with Josef and Stefan."

"Father!" Anya's face flushed and she smacked him on the shoulder, despite his growl. "That's not nice!"

"Boys aren't nice," Gregori rolled his eyes and swept an arm out to her. "Now come. Your mother is demanding to know why I'm not telling her how well her little girl is doing. She is getting most impatient."

His daughter took his hand with a smile. For a moment, Gregori let his himself feel her thoughts and found nothing but a proud glow in each one. She was happy—gone was the sadness he had placed there with his conservative ways. Mikhail had been right. Gregori had to accept that things changed, that the world didn't fit into a classical mold.

Anya could never fit into a mold. She was herself—as overflowing and bright as she was.

"You think I could be better than Ana?" Anya looked at Gregori expectedly.

"You are both strong young women," Gregori insisted, reaching to help guide Anya to change shape. "But between you and me, she writes notes on the inside of her sleeves to remember things. Your mother does, too."

Anya's laughter continued well after she had shifted into the form of an owl.

Gregori could only hoot in disbelief. He had never known an owl to laugh before.

Then again, he had never known a Carpathian woman to kick their own father in the groin.

* * *

**A/N:**So this one came to me after DesertFyre comment mentioning doing a continuation with Gregori talking to Anya after learning how she felt. I was craving something a little funny so I put this out there.

Poor Gregori. Sometimes I feel bad for making him such a scapegoat, but then I realize, he's so serious in the books. We need a little fun with him, so why not?

Also, I'm glad that people responded well to the Ginny and Josef one shot. I have at least two more written that I'm in the process of trying to edit before I post. I didn't want to bore everyone with those two so I had to do a little fun one with Anya in a good mood.

So here you go!

Thanks everyone for the reviews. I love them although I don't have time to answer to each individually. Thank you all very much!


	28. Right of Passage

**Title:** Right of Passage

**Theme:** Growing Up

**Pairing:** Ginny x Josef

**Summary:** Sometimes growing up isn't all that great. Especially when you're Carpathian.

* * *

"Isn't it beautiful, Josef?"

Ginny stared at the blinking light on the laptop, pondering quietly as she waited for a response. She was sprawled out on her bed with the promise to Colby that she would be doing her homework unless Colby receive another email from her tutor complaining about Ginny's lack of motivation.

The response came slowly, making the little icon on her screen blaze to life nearly ten minutes later.

"It's a great picture," Josef wrote back.

His response was short, concise.

And so unlike the Josef she knew.

Ginny couldn't help it. She slowly closed her laptop and folded her legs under herself. She was almost seventeen and Josef wasn't too much older than herself. He had been a good friend to her. A lively friend that made life happy and joyful. Although they lived far apart, he kept in close contact with her and Paul. Then Josh and Skyler too. They were all a young generation that stood neither as children nor as adults, just in the middle.

He wasn't barely older than a quarter of a century, Ginny knew that much. Josef's uncle and father would often complain about his immaturity, but lately, Ginny couldn't help but feel as if part of Josef wasn't there.

She couldn't place it.

Exhaling she reopened her laptop to find another message. "Ginny?" he wrote.

"I'm here," she typed back. "Just got a little distracted. I'm glad you liked the picture. I drew it for art class and my teacher wanted to put it in a contest."

It was a beautiful sketch that she had hoped he would remember. She had inked it and colored it carefully, doing her best to remember the rich snowfall and the beautiful sights that Josef had shown her. She had been ill the first time they had met, and he had more than willing kept his promise to show her the Carpathian Mountains in all their glory.

She waited for his response, hoping that he would comment on the image. Remember what it meant to her.

"I wish you the best of luck," was all he said.

"What's wrong?" Ginny demanded. "You're not acting like yourself, Josef."

The response wasn't instant; it was slow. She watched him begin to type, the signal showing that much, but then vanishing as if he thought better. Ginny waited before slowly typing again.

"You're my friend, Josef. If something's wrong. Please tell me."

This time he finished his message.

"I completed my first hunt. Successfully."

Ginny's hands trembled over her keyboard, struggling to type out a message, but found that no words could possible sound right. What should she say? That's she was proud he had successfully killed someone? Albeit it was a vampire, but still.

When she thought of Josef, she thought of those kind hands that helped her along paths. She thought of his beautiful paintings and outlandish stories. She thought only of his smiles and laughter.

What could she say? Josef wasn't a warrior at heart. He was a boy. A kind, happy, loving boy.

Ginny tried to write, but she couldn't. She found everything coming up wrong. Congratulations seemed wrong, but wasn't that the Carpathian custom?

He was now a man in their eyes. A warrior and a fighter.

Ginny felt as if he were slipping away from her. As if she were grasping at a part of him that was slowly vanishing, even though he was still breathing. He was still Josef, she reminded herself. As long as she could hang onto that innocent side of him, he'd always be that boy.

Very slowly she started to type.

"I'm glad that you came back to me, Josef."

Somewhere, on the other side of the world, Josef stared at the single blinking message.

Josh had commented back with a happy "Good job, man!"

Paul gave a rough, "Hell yeah!"

Skyler had even offered a soft, "I knew you could do it."

But Ginny never ceased to surprise him.

Josef looked down at his ruined clothing, having been too overwhelmed to care for his needs. His wounds had calmly healed over for the most part, but there was something heavy in his chest. Something big and empty. The entire journey home, he had lots of recognition for his work. Vlad had been more than proud of him, Eleanor was proud that he had worked hard, and everyone seemed glad that he was on his path to becoming a man.

But Ginny, only Ginny seemed happy that he had come back at all. Whether his hunt had been successful or not, as long as he was there she would be happy. She didn't care about his growing or developing…she only cared that he was alive.

The heaviness was still there, but somehow, even though they were only connected through screens, the dull ache had lessened.

"I want to see you," Josef typed back.

Ginny's response was instant. "That depends…you going to behave yourself?"

Josef felt himself smiling. Yes, he realized, this was just what he needed. Ginny's playful teasing to remind him how to smile and how to laugh.

"I never do," Josef wrote back, only to pause. "Especially not when it comes to you."

Ginny's response came instantly when her camera snapped to life and her face filled his screen as she laughed. He could see her grinning at him, her brown eyes dancing and her hands waving at him. She was so bright and colorful. So completely beautiful.

"You're terrible, Josef!" Ginny laughed over the microphone.

He couldn't help but think just how right she was.

"You have no idea, Ginny…"

And she never would, if Josef had anything to stay about it.

* * *

**A/N:**So I had to post a Ginny and Josef one again. The more I think of these two, the more I'm considering of trying to find the time to write chapter long work based on the two of them.


	29. Threats

**Title**: When the Date Cancels

**Theme:**Threats

**Pairing:**Ginny and Josef

**Summary:** When you're all dressed up and all alone, what good does it do?

* * *

That bastard!

Ginny was trembling, fighting the urge to keep from slamming things around. As the saying went, she was all dressed up with no place to go. Especially not after her date had suddenly cancelled on her.

The dance was barely half an hour away and Ginny was left tossing all her make up supplies back into her bag. She had spent hours researching and practicing with MaryAnn and begging Rafael for dance lessons only to end up with nothing. Colby had even kindly taken her shopping for just the perfect dress—and considering that Rafael had shot down almost all the dresses in the shop—it was a miracle that she even found one.

It was a pale green color that reminded Ginny of grass on a warm day. It hugged her body and cinched at her waist, all the while making her feel like a very pretty princess. She had curled her own hair and had done her own make up refusing to allow anything more than advice. She wanted to make herself beautiful.

But what good was that now?

Ginny sighed almost bitterly. One of Rafael's workers had kindly asked her to the dance and Ginny had excitedly said yes. Now he had called to cancel with many apologies, but refused to explain why.

_Bing._

Sighing, she opened her laptop to find Josef messaging her.

"Are you ready for your dance yet?" he asked.

"Dressed up and no place to go," she wrote back. "My date cancelled."

His response came swiftly. "I'm still available."

She laughed, reaching for a makeup removing wipe. "Sorry," she typed back. "You're miles away."

"What a pity." Joseph responded.

Ginny's bedroom door slip open. "I was looking forward to seeing how well you clean up."

Ginny nearly knocked over her laptop as she jumped up with a shriek. Josef lowered his phone and gave her a rather smug smirk. He was dressed in a dark shirt and matching slacks, his normally slightly wild hair actually smoothed back. He looked sharp and dressed up.

"Damn," Josef rubbed his ear. "If I knew you were going to scream like that, I would have brought ear plugs."

"You…you….Ugh!"

Ginny stomped her feet and flung herself into his arms. Josef caught her one handedly into a tight embrace. She was still stomping and thumping his chest in disbelief.

"You didn't say you were coming to visit!"

"That's the point of a surprise," Josef laughed at her, capturing a single tight curl.

"You're mean and troublesome," Ginny flushed and swatted his hands away. "You should have told me! I wouldn't have taken so much make up off!"

"You don't need it," Josef rolled his eyes. "You silly, nitwit. If I wanted a painted up doll to go with me to some dance, I would have just borrowed one of Ana or Anya's. And trust me; dolls are great listeners, but horrible conversationalists."

Ginny looked surprised. "You want to go to the dance?"

"No," Josef retorted. "I want to dance with you but the only good music around just happens to be at the dance."

Ginny laughed, the sound was happy and heartfelt. "You're such a pain!"

But despite her words she pecked him on the cheek and pushed him out of her room. "Now get out so I can put my face back on! Go bug Rafael for a few minutes."

"A few minutes? Is that woman-talk for 'an hour'?" Josef tried to argue, but she had already shut the door on him leaving him to shake his head.

"You didn't have to threaten my help like that," Rafael stood against the hallway wall, folding his arms with a strict look.

Josef's smile disappeared and an animalistic look passed over his face. "It would do him a lot of good to be careful of who he thinks he can mess with. You can't tell me honestly that you would have been pleased to see Ginny dancing with a farm hand."

"Pleased? No," Rafael waved his hand. "But you didn't have to steal the joy of terrorizing him from me."

"You should have been faster, old man."

"You're a terrible person, Josef." Rafael could only shake his head with a low chuckle.

"I know that," Josef leaned back against Ginny's door, smiling at the sounds of her low murmuring voice. "But for her sake…I'm okay with that."

* * *

**A/N:**Eventually I need to get off my butt and write that chapter based story on Ginny and Josef. I just need to get a good plot going and focused enough to write then edit it. Editing, I am horrible at. I got some ideas, but they either seem too dark or not right. I just need that perfect one. Hmm…

Anyway, read and review! I love coming on here to read the reviews and seeing your reaction. It gives me an idea of what people like and so far, I see more people leaning towards the humor side that is silly, yet somewhat believable!


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